#ALSO he STILL shakes his hand as if it strained his wrist even tho he isnt the one wielding it aaa its all so perfect 😭💖

[4giorno]

WAAAAAAAAH i was so worried abt kavehs plunge attack even tho i was happy with his NA and CA but hoyo keeps coming through with him omg. spoilers in the tags

[bluecookies02]

I've been having a hyperfixation on face fucking lately, so If you could do any character with that I'd literally cry my eyes out. I love your work so much and I've been binging it for days!!!❤️‍����

!oh absolutely, I'm glad you're enjoying the blog!

>disclaimer:all acts are consensual unless stated othervise<

﹊﹊﹊﹊🄵🄰🄲🄴 🄵🅄🄲🄺🄸🄽🄶﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ, Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ, Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ, Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ: (cw: squirting, overstim)

He'll fuck you until you're trembling, just begging for him to cum already, throat soar from whining on his cock for hours on end.

Dabi can last long, sometimes too long. He'll have you twitching and crying, squirming when his thumb meets your clit again. It's not like he didn't cum either, he probably filled you up once or twice, dick still terribly hard but equally sore and flaming red from how long he's been slamming it in and out of your pussy. This happens when he's frustrated, generally pent up and it just happens that fucking you makes him feel better.

With one final tap to your clit, you're squirting, back arching and nails digging into your own palm, his chest getting soaked and abs glistening while they flex. He's so close, the pleasure too much that he's not even sure he can cum.

"No more! Fuck, no more" you're panting and clenching your legs shut, his cock slowly sliding out of you. Your limbs feel sore, incapable of moving another inch while you take deep breaths, hands relaxing to reveal small moon-like creases you gave to yourself.

You can feel the bed dipping and then there's a hand on your jaw, gently turning your face to the side.

"Open up" his voice is soft, but not any less demanding, his tip nudging past your lips. You open your jaw slack, closing your eyes. His length fills your mouth, your drool smearing down your lips and across your cheek before staining the sheets. His cock sinks further, filling up your throat. You try to breathe around it, gagging and spluttering but he keeps still, giving u time to fix your breathing, pulling out only a bit to let the air pass to your lungs.

"You good?" and you have to think for a moment before humming, relaxing further when his hands move to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'll try to be quick...take a deep breath come one..." he coos, and you know better than to not listen to his advice. As soon as he sees your chest rising, he's slamming as far as he can go, his balls flush against your face. He's cursing and groaning, humping the depths of your throat, holding your head in place. You're coughing, thinking about reaching to grab his hand, but you decide to hold on.

"That's it, fuck that's it, so close I promise..." he rushes out, the slapping of his skin against yours speeding up. You're almost passing out but there's a deep growl, and then there are hot splashes coating the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly empty while you swallow what you can, coughing out what wouldn't go down. He helps you up, a hand petting your back. You clean the mix rushing down your chin with the back of your wrist, palm opening up to catch the spit falling from your lips.

It takes you a few minutes and Dabi waits, an apologetic look on his face while he watches you struggle. You can speak up but you terribly want to, words coming out scrambled and broken up. Dabi's hand holds your cheek, letting you nuzzle against it.

"Too far?" he asks, worried. His warm hand finds your throat, trying to ease some of the pain with his quirk, suiting your muscles.

You try to shake your head "no". It was almost too much, dangerously close to it too, but your heart is full, body relaxing while Dabi takes care of you, cleaning you up and tucking you against his chest. After a few minutes, you're not sure if you fell asleep or not but you open your eyes, watching the way Dabi's fingers dance across your arm. You move it just a bit until your fingers interlace with his, falling back into the daze and eventually falling asleep

Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ: (cw: none)

He's very rough but also very scared to hurt you.

Making him do anything unsafe is close to impossible and you respect that, you do. However you never saw him losing his mind, you never saw him fully letting go and fuck is it tempting. Even when he's angry he's still cautious. You fucked him silly but never fucked him stupid.

Finally, he's laying on his back, moving the hair from your face while you suck him off, saying dirty shit that makes you squeeze your legs together. Your hands are plastered over his meaty thighs, squeezing and gripping as you work him down your throat. He's timing your breathing, pulling you off every once in a while to let you rest.

"Relax" you whisper, circling your tongue over his flushed tip, flattening it against the slit while you look at him through your eyelashes. You're confident, and he caves quickly, letting you do your thing when he rests his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

You worship his cock, kissing and mouthing every inch, massaging the drool into his balls and squeezing every so often. He's not particularly loud during those, apart from the occasional praise he gives, humming to let you know you're making him feel good. You're going too slow and he's oh so gently raising his hips to meet your mouth, feet digging into the mattress. You keep him desperate, slipping your lips on and off his cock, watching him fuck the air each time his cock gets exposed to it, chasing the warmth of your throat.

It's not until you mumble a demanding "Go on" that you take him all the way in, waiting for him to move. He's not doing anything for a while, until he gets the memo, carefully rolling his hips, bucking off the bed. You're humming, throat vibrating each time he goes a little harder, urging him on. It takes a few minutes for him to let go and get into the rhythm, sloppily fucking your throat, eyes half-lidded to watch you. He didn't know he would get so terribly horny by watching you struggle, eyes glossy, the choking sound making him want to go harder, slam it down your throat until your eyes roll back into your head. He can't keep his mind from wandering, swallowing up by the image, feeling the coil in his stomach start to unroll.

You briefly put your hands on his hips, stroking his sides and following the motion of his thrusts, bobbing your head to meet him halfway. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and when he breathes out "cumm-ghh" you pull off a bit, the first wave of cum falling on your tongue, a few smaller ones following soon after.

Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ:(cw:facesitting)

Your pussy is spread open, gushing and leaking onto his tongue while you jerk his cock, pumping the length in your hand with great care, movement slowed down so that you can selfishly roll your hips just right, thighs squeezing his head.

He keeps you open with his thumbs, nose buried in your cunt as he laps at your clit, suckling and twirling the nub in his mouth. He's grabbing fistfuls of your ass, trying to get all of your weight on him, pawing and kneading at it, a disapproving huff rushing through his muffled lips. You decide to indulge him dropping all your weight, chest bubbly to hear his satisfied groan, veins of his cock twitching in your palm.

You open your mouth vide, swallowing around his length with practiced ease, your hand moving from his base once it's fully inside. Like on cue, his strong muscular legs hook around your neck, pressing until your nose is mushed against his balls. A small part of you is thankful that he always takes thorough showers after training, but an embarrassingly large one wants to be consumed by the disgusting sweaty musk you can only imagine while you bury your face further between his legs.

Neither of you have much space to move, settling for just trying to reach and be closer to each other. Aizawa closes his lips over your cunt, mouth full as he swallows and gulps like he can't get enough, adrenaline pumping through him when he starts to feel a bit dizzy. You wrap your arms around his thighs, the position straining on both of your muscles, the burning sensation letting you know that you only have so much time until you're both at your limit.

Lazy rolls turn into hurried humps, your pussy chasing his tongue until it's just in the right place, tummy clenching from the surges of pleasure , His head rising off the bed so that he can press his tongue harder. You can feel your throat burning already and you get excited just by thinking about not being able to swallow food or drinks without being reminded of tonight.

He knows your body inside and out, knows that you're about to cum by the smallest movement of your hips and spine, ready to feel it so closely. He's only waiting for it, holding in his release just because he's so stuck on never cumming first, not wanting to miss you reaching your high, your moans and whines while your whole body moves and shakes, wave after wave surging to your fingertips and toes, forcing them to clench and curl.

He releases down your throat when you squeeze your legs around his ears, the first jolt of your body followed by his, cum pooling at the base of his cock. He cums like a bull, and unless your holes are plugged up, it's gonna seep out, you can't even swallow in time, gulps too big to handle, especially in a position like this one.

His legs slowly uncurl, freeing you and letting you slay down next to him. You can hear colors and you can see the sounds, mind on a beautiful vacation, not useful for a single thing. At least for half an hour.

Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ:(cw:noncon, piss, mindbreak, humiliation, kidnapping)

He'll throw you on the ground, make you kiss his cock , make you beg to ruin your voice for weeks. He'll slap it against your cheek, smearing his tip all over your face and covering it in pre.

Pulling on your hair, forcing your lips open and already starting a quick pace. You can only try to push him away, arms too weak to do anything to help yourself. He doesn't want you to lose consciousness tho, snapping you off of his length for only a brief moment.

"Breathe whore, you're useless to me if you can't even suck a cock" you can barely breathe out of fear tho, four fingers tightening around your already bruised neck. Then he's pumping in and out of your mouth, slapping your cheek whenever you try to bare your teeth to make him flinch away, truth to be told he barely feels it he just wants an excuse to hit those plump cheeks. You hate yourself for not trying harder, but one can only have so much strength before giving up.

Your hair feels like it's gonna rip away from your skull, so you have no choice than to close your eyes and relax, slouching on the floor and letting him use your throat, hoping he'll get there faster.

He's not a fan of that, your chocked-up sounds noticeably disappearing when you find a way to get some air through your nose. It wouldn't be that easy, you should've known, two fingers stopping your airflow, causing spit to gush out of your mouth as your throat flexes and battles against his dick. He feels generous today.

It feels like you're dreaming when he finally lets you go, immediately fisting his cock in front of your face, aiming for your pretty eyes. Your eyelashes look beautiful, wet from tears, making them stand out better, more gorgeous...

He hates pretty things. He wants to defile them, make them as disgusting and monstrous as he is, the urge to ruin everything that dares be better than him.

You manage to close them in time, white painting your eyelids and forehead, some of it getting in your hair. He's finished with a sigh, tapping his tip to your lips before taking a step back. You're about to thank God that it's all over until you can feel the warmth hitting your tits, and then the smell hits you, causing you to curl up in yourself. It's not happening, there's no way in hell this is happening. You feel sick to your stomach, nails scraping against the floor until they break off, the sting not making you react at all, only focused on the sizzling sound and a satisfied moan in the background.

You lost the last ounce of dignity you had, brain shutting down while you just sit there, staring at the piss dripping down your thighs and your pussy, later hitting the floor and pooling on the cheap wood. Your eyes are wide, emotionless, robbed of the last spark they held. They're open now but you can't see a thing, everything seems to come to a stop.

You might hear the laugh before a door is slammed and locked, but you're not so sure anymore, falling unconscious in the cold room.

I pinkie promise to edit this in the morning bc my eyes r literally closing as I write. Who tf knows what I just blabbered on here but it's an adventure right. Is it gonna be a "you're/your" mess up, maybe? A plot hole...very likely. ooc...who cares, I do not believe in canon anyways😌

I feel like I made them all nut so fast but, more cummies the better I guess. ALSO ANON THANK YOU, I WOULDNT HAVE KNOW THAT THE ❤️‍🔥 EMOJI EXISTED IF IT WERENT FOR THIS ASK

Ko-Fi 💙| Patreon✨

[fandom-puff]

Switching it Up

Pairing: Sirius black x reader

Requested by: Hello love 💕i’m here to request older!sirius x reader where reader is a switch but hasnt really explored her dom side so she asks him if he’d be okay to try it and he is, even tho he’s also never tried to sub??

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamic, smut, pegging, choking

Gif creds to owner

"Sirius?" you asked gently, your hand placed flat on his chest as you snuggled under the covers.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" he smiled, looking down at you, tucking his long hair behind one ear. "You alright?"

You bit your lip for a moment, before meeting his eyes. "I'd like to try something new. You know... in the bedroom..."

Sirius grinned slightly, sitting up slightly. "Something new, eh? What like, love? We talked about food play and temperature play, but we got a bit distracted last time-"

"No... I don't mean like that... I was thinking... I'd like to- to try being the dominant one,"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his grin. "The dominant one, eh? You really are a little dark horse, aren't you pet?"

You pouted. "Don't tease me!" you said.

Laughing, Sirius said, "Or what? You gonna spank me?" you fixed him with a stern look and he held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. If you wanna try it, love, I don't mind. God, it's been a while since I bottomed..."

***

A few days later, you were backed up against your bedroom door, kissing Sirius hard, your fingers hooked in his belt loops to keep him close to you. You could feel the hardening bulge straining at his trousers, pressing against you belly and groaned. "Get on the bed, Sirius," you whispered, releasing your grip. Sirius looked down with a bemused expression, eyebrows arched and a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Your nostrils flared and you put a hand on your hip. "On the fucking bed. Now," you said, a little firmer, gaining more and more confidence, especially as the man before you practically sprinted to the bed.

You admired him laying there for a moment before reaching to stroke his hair out of his face. "Colour?" you whispered, biting your lip.

"Green, my love. Go to town on me... go in my bottom draw," you coked your head to the side and nodded, squatting down to the bottom drawer as he asked. "Right at the back..." you reached out and gasped, your hand wrapping around a thick fake cock, with a series of straps attached to it. "Did a bit of transfiguration," he said proudly. "And there's some lube there too. Magical. It'll save you a job of prepping me,"

You smiled appreciatively, beginning to strip, gesturing for him to do the same. as he was kicking off his trousers, you figured out the harness for the strap-on, before turning around and facing him. He was still in his boxers. "Those need to come off," you said and Sirius nodded, wriggling out of them. You then handed him the bottle of lube. "I want to see you touch your pretty arse for me, Sirius," you said lowly, smirking slightly as he flushed. He nodded, drizzling the lube on his fingers before pressing them to his hole, pushing gently. He let out a high pitched moan, slowly pumping his fingers. He locked eyes with you, biting his wobbling lower lip to suppress his needy moans which were growing louder by the minute. You smiled softly. "Good boy," you cooed, and he nodded.

"Please..." he whimpered, looking at you pleadingly. You licked your lips and raised your eyebrows.

"Please, what?"

"I- I want you to fuck me! Please, YN!" he groaned out, thighs shaking. You smiled gently and gently tugged on his wrist so he removed his fingers from his now prepped hole. You coated the dildo in plenty of lube before lining up with him, slowly pushing in. Sirius shuddered, fisting the sheets until his knuckles were white, a low moan escaping his lips.

“There’s a good boy...” you moaned lowly, bottoming out inside of him. “Taking this cock so well, baby,” he locked eyes with you, nodding desperately, hips wriggling as he tried to grind himself on the strap on. “Aww... do you want more, baby? You’re trying to fuck yourself on my cock like a little slut,” Sirius moaned at your words, nodding desperately. You smirked, beginning to rock your hips, angling them experimentally until you brushed against Sirius’s prostate, making him gasp and arch his back, letting out a whiny moan. You groaned, holding his thighs apart and fucking him relentlessly, hitting his sweet spot over and over until he was whimpering and begging for release. “Gonna come, Sirius? Gonna come from your tight little arse getting fucked?”

Sirius cried out and nodded, grabbing at your hand. You smiled, thinking he just wanted to hold onto you as he came, but he surprised you, pulling your hand up to his throat. You raised your brows and smirked, squeezing gently. Sirius’s eyes rolled back as he pleaded, and you increased the speed of your thrusts. “Good boy. Come for me, Sirius,”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. With a harsh cry, he came, writhing on the mattress as his cock spurted ropes of cum over his belly. You released his throat and slowly pulled out, cleaning and vanishing the strap on with magic, before cleaning Sirius up. You went to his side, pulling him to your chest and kissing his head gently. “You did so well for me, baby,” you cooed, stroking the tangles out of his hair. “Do you want a hot bath? You’re gonna be sore after that,..”

Sirius shook his head, burying his face into your breasts. “No... wanna be sore. Fuck, it’s been ages... that was good,” you grinned at his garbled words, rubbing his back.

“If you insist, love. But you’re gonna drink some water for me, alright?” He nodded, and a few summoning spells later, he was sipping at a bottle of water. “There we go. Come here, lovely,” you said and smiled as Sirius nuzzled into you. “Sleep, sweetheart... did so well for me,”

Tags: @liliputbahn @lilymurphy03 @pinkandblueblurbs @wholebigboxofyikes @remus-lupin-simp @dailyalanrickman @cremedelabrulee @simpforsnape @imareallygrumpyme @ithinkweallsing @lizlil @truly-insatiable @whizzbeesdukes @sassicaismysupreme @acciosiriusblack @highfunctioningfangirl19 @1-800-snapesimp @sociallyawkward-princess

[b0ba-chan]

Good Puppy

summary: won’t you be a good puppy for daddy?

pairing: Bokuto Koutaro x fem!Reader

word count: 1700

warnings: dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, puppy kink (not in a furry way tho), spanking, car sex (if you squint), pure filth, no editing

a/n: my fingies went WILD omg she just kept going. so close to 2000 words but that would’ve been a little too much. Also, again i do not know how to write endings

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Bokuto Koutaro seems like a giant golden retriever to the public, with his bright eyes and even brighter personality. Everyone loved him no matter the age or gender, his warm and loving energy could draw anyone in. That’s how he was able to draw you into him. Being with him feels like whirlwind, constant moving and acceleration in both life and relationship. There is never a dry or boring time with Bokuto, he always made everything so fun.

People may think that he would prefer to be more submissive in bed the way he loves to please people or he would be more light hearted with everything. You thought the same way too, that there will always be that light hearted vibe to always linger around. What you weren’t prepared for was the fact that he has an extremely dominating presence and quite serious. Not only was his vibe felt so big, but he’s just built so well with his thick muscles and towering height, it just makes you feel even smaller than you already are.

Today has been a rough day for you, a busy day at work and an angry boss that you had to deal with which almost cost you your job. You felt so tired and overworked that you could barely walk back home, but luckily for you, your loving boyfriend is on his way back from training to pick you up. Parked out at the front, he leans on the car waiting for you to come out. Right when he was about to text you he was there to pick you up, your small body plopped against his broad chest. You inhale his scent that made you feel like home and melt into him as he wrapped his arms around you?

“Alright, pup?” Koutaro coos at you and runs a hand through your hair, kissing the top of your head. Letting out a small whine and press as close as you can to him.

“Go home, daddy?” You couldn’t help whispering out the little nickname that could change his attitude in a snap. His eyes grew dark and lust filled, but he kept his composure for you, because he knew you needed him the most right now.

“Yeah, let's get you home. Daddy will take care of you,” Kou smiles and opens the passenger door for you. His gym shorts are already straining slightly, knowing he can have his fun with you tonight. On days like these, he knows you want him to take all the reins and wreck her to forget today’s troubles. 

The drive home was quiet, making you feel more ansty for more touch than his hand on your thigh. You needed more and his hand did not have enough access to your pussy, but you do have easy access to his crotch. All you had to do to get to him was reach over and tug the shorts down, so you do as you think, letting your hand reach over. He glances back and forth from the road to you, sending you over a warning glare.

“Puppy, keep to yourself. It’s dangerous, wait till we get home,” Bokuto grunts as your hand reaches to pull down his shorts and boxers, just enough for his semi-hard on to come out. He hisses at the cold air, but he doesn’t stop you. His rule is that you have to listen to him the first time around, never wanting to repeat himself. So if you don’t want to listen, he’ll let you have your fun but punishment does wait for you at home. 

You hum at the weight in your hand and tease the tip with your thumb, lightly giggling when his breath hitches. There was a punishment to this and you knew full well that you’re bound to get a punishment, but anything for you to have your hands on him. You have your fun, jerking him off slowly and taking in the feeling of him getting hard in your hand. The car parks, but that doesn’t stop you from playing with his cock until he pulls his shorts up, causing you to let out a whine.

Kou doesn’t say anything but gets out of the car and goes to your side to open the door for you to get out. Before you can walk away, he grabs you by the jaw and leans in to your ear. He blows gently, causing you to emit a whine and shiver. “Get inside and get naked. Face down, ass up. Understand, pup?”

After you nod, he lets a low chuckle and lets go of your jaw to pat your cheek. A flush runs through your whole body as you go into the house and to the bedroom, getting in position the way he asked you to. It feels like forever until he comes back, strolling in with only his briefs on and hair ruffled down from it’s normal brushed up style. Trying to tempt him close, you shake your ass for him, but he acts unphased which causes you to pout. Maybe deepening your arch for him? No, he seems like he doesn’t care.

You close your eyes to let out a frustrated whine, but before you can continue any longer, a sharp slap hits your ass. It’s so hard and aggressive that it causes you to lurch forward and gasp. The stinging was burning, but before it settled down, another spank landed on the same spot. Tears are already threatening to spill out as the blows to your ass keep going. You loved spanking, but this wasn’t enough contact with him to satisfy you. Bokuto knew this as well, that all you wanted to touch him. After fifteen spanks, he easily flips you onto your back to take in your already fucked out expression. He smirks, enjoying his work, but right as you reach out to him, he immediately pins you down to the bed by the wrist.

“No touching, pup. You’re still taking your punishment,” His eyes stare directly into yours, showing that he’s completely serious. You let out a little whine, but comply anyways. Punishments were rough but you never want them to worsen. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, puppy. Daddy will take good care of you.”

Shivering at his words, you nod compliantly because you know daddy always takes care of you. He lets go of your wrist and lets it trail down your face to your chest, grazing his fingers lightly over your perky nipples. The light huffs and whines arouse him even more and brings his hand down to your sobbing cunt. The pad of his thumb presses on your clit causing you to let out a groan. Your hips roll down on his thumb, trying to grab more pleasure. Why was he being so mean? Wasn’t it enough that you can’t touch him?

“Maybe daddy shouldn’t prep you. Think you can take all of my cock with no prep baby? Be a good girl and take it, yeah,” He smirks at the pleased reaction from you. It’s not like you haven’t taken him with no prep before, but it was rare and you’re willing to take the challenge now. You let out small pleas for him, not really specifying what you want, but Bokuto knows you well enough to know what you want.

One of his hands reaches up to grab the headboard and the other holds the base of cock. He angles himself to your hole and pushes his blunt tip into you. The intrusion causes you to let out a squeal and try to hold onto the sheets to stable yourself. Koutaro doesn’t waste his time to continue pushing into you; you just looked so small and fragile under him, he just had to ruin you. Even when you plea for him to slow down, he doesn’t listen and continues until he’s balls deep. 

You keep squirming around and crying over the intense pain and pleasure of the stretch of his thick cock. He pinches your side to get you to calm down. “C’mon, puppy. Relax for me.” He chuckles at you trying to gather yourself. His hand comes to your tummy and presses down, moaning at the pressure he set on himself. Sobs wrack through your whole body, feeling him so deep in you.

“Doesn’t it feel so good around daddy’s cock? C’mon, calm down,” Kou lets out a grunt as he adds a little more pressure. As you start to calm down, he shocks you by starting to pound into your cunt. Both of his hands are on the headboard, limiting his skin contact with you, still keeping to his punishment. But you don’t even care anymore, you’re fucked dumb and can’t even form coherent sentences. Words spill out of your mouth about how good Bokuto feels inside you, babbling about needing more.

“Puppy just can’t shut up, huh?” The man towering over you grunts, taking one of his hands to prod his fingers in your mouth, keeping his brutal pace at your sloppy hole. He holds your tongue between his thumb and index finger and increases his pace. Distorted moans spill out of your mouth as your legs start to shake, signaling your oncoming orgasm. He slows down his thrusts but gets deeper every time. 

Once his tip presses against your cervix, screams break through your mouth as you fall over the edge, crying over the intense feeling. Your eyes roll back as your sight goes white. Bo moves both hands back to your hips to your hips to pull you as close he can to spill his hot seed into you. 

The only words coming out of your mouth are daddy and different variations of his name. As you both slowly come down, Bokuto stays in your hole and pulls you to his chest. He soothes your crying and praises you for being such a good girl for him.

“That’s my good puppy, there we go. Did so good for me, princess,” He coos into your ear, letting you touch him however you wanted. “Been so good for me, baby. C’mon let's get you cleaned up, drink some water too, yeah?” 

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

a/n: thanks for reading  (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[oliviaischillin1204]

t2eb, day 20: “hysterical”

[this is actually lowkey p intense and kinda references tickling as ACTUAL torture, so be warned (it’s all consensual tho, don’t even worry about that) also i was largely inspired by this post by @fluffymary, specfically the part about Roman, so i’ve linked that for your viewing pleasure :3]

Roman had no idea how long it had been. At least a couple hours, if he had to guess, but his capacity for logical thinking like that was severely lacking at the moment.

“Fuhuhuhuhuck! I cahahahahahahan’t!”

He’d been craving something recently. Something deeper than the fun, gentle games he normally played with the other sides.

“Nohohohoho, ihihit tihihihihihickles!”

And he’d thought about asking one of them to help him, but something was holding him back. Not fear of their judgement, or the worry that they would take it too far.

“Wahahahahahait, wahahahahait!”

In all honesty, he was afraid they wouldn’t take it far enough.

“Ahahahahahahahaha!”

Roman had wanted to be pushed to his limit, past his limit, even. He wanted to be tickled until he reached his breaking point, and then he wanted to be tickled some more. He wanted it to be torture; really, truly torture. He wanted it so much.

And so here he was. The Imagination was a wonderful tool for the creative aspect to wield. It had allowed him to bring so many fantasies to life, so really, what was one more?

He hadn’t even had to verbalize what he wanted: as soon as he entered the space, he found himself spread eagle on his back, his wrists and ankles bound, stretching him taut and leaving him immobile.

There had been just a moment of hesitation as he tried to visualize how this was going to happen, but less than a second after he was tied down, two gloved hands were floating above him. Roman knew they were sentient enough to keep him guessing, but still under his control to the point that they would automatically stop the instant he wanted them to.

That knowledge made him feel a little less scared about the whole thing, so with that, Roman nodded, and the tickles had begun.

That was then. This is now.

By this point, Roman was a flushed, sweaty mess. His hair was completely ruined, his clothes had been pulled this way and that from his constant thrashing, and his voice was almost gone from the nearly-ceaseless screams he’d been releasing at the waves after waves of assaulting tickles.

As if it hadn’t been bad enough already, the feeling of the hands hovering at his elbows made Roman gasp. He knew what was coming, and he was torn between exhilirated anticipation and outright fear.

“N- no, nohoho,” he whimpered, his nervous smile returning as he craned his head to watch the hands begin tracing down his forearms. They slowly and softly wiggled their fingers, making sure to just barely graze the skin as they made their descent to somewhere much, much more ticklish.

Roman tried to watch both of them at the same time, but it was impossible. His eyes flicked between them, waiting with bated breath to see which one would act first.

He inhaled one last time. “Please-”

Both hands dove into his armpits simultaneously, and Roman screamed, tossing his head back and forth. For a couple of magical disembodied hands, they were expert ticklers, one drawing teasing spirals into the center of his pit, the other scribbling all five fingers at random against the soft skin.

Roman writhed, throwing his body back and forth as his peals of laughter burst out of him. He threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he cried out in ecstasy. So of course, the hands chose that moment of distraction to change it up: they both began drilling their thumbs into the deepest part of his pits at the exact same time.

Roman jerked his body so hard at the sensations, he actually managed to dislodge one of the hands from his underarm, sending it flying out in front of him. He curled his elbows as close to himself as his bonds would allow, shaking his head as he wheezed through his frantic giggles.

“Nahahahaha- nahahat thehehere, please!”

The hands froze, and for a moment Roman was worried something had gone wrong; he didn’t actually want them to stop yet, they were programmed not to stop until Roman truly wanted them to, so why-?

His thoughts were shut off as the hand he’d thrown off snapped its fingers, and he was suddenly aware of something binding around his chest. And his elbows. And his knees and his pelvis and his forehead.

Another second passed. He wiggled his body. Nothing. He tried again, straining against the new restraints. He couldn’t move a muscle.

Roman felt his breath quickening. He’d never been bound so thoroughly before. He couldn’t even raise his head from the table, couldn’t watch the hands anymore. He was totally at their mercy. They could do anything to him.

The realization made a spike of fear curl pleasantly in his stomach. His eyes flicked back and forth, catching a glimpse as the hand floated upwards towards his face, hovering just on the edge of his peripheral vision.

The hand trailed one gentle finger along his jawline, and Roman squealed at the electrifying tingly sensation. Then the hand patted his cheek once, like it was patronizing Roman, before it flew away out of his line of sight.

And right on cue, the two hands returned to their previous tasks, with the added restraints making the sensations feel even more tickly than before.

“Ahahahahahahaha- nahahahahahaha- ohohoh my Gohohohohod!”

His peals of laughter had barely started anew before he heard one of the hands snap its fingers again.

And then he felt the hands everywhere, on practically every inch of his defenseless body. 

One scratched underneath his chin and all over his neck, torturing Roman with the realization that the strap around his head kept him from protecting his neck at all. Occasionally it dipped around to flutter at his bright red ears, swirling a finger around the shell before returning to tease underneath his jaw.

Two were at his hips, alternating between pinching the bones and scribbling at that sensitive strip of skin right above his pantline.

Another two were stationed where his waistline met his side, ruthlessly tasering that soft little divot and making Roman howl, torso jerking uselessly against the sensations.

There were several on his ribs, he assumed, because he could feel way too many fingers crawling up and down his rib cage, each one taking the time to wiggle deeply in between each crevices, sometimes teaming up to massage a particularly sensitive bone all the way around.

Only one hand was at his stomach, but one was all that was necessary: its thumb was tucked securely into his belly button, vibrating the special spot with care, while the other four fingers all made sure to scratch and squeeze as much of his pudgy tummy as they could reach.

Four hands worked on his knees with an accuracy that would be impressive, were it not so awful: two pinching that one particular tickle spot right above his kneecaps, and two using their nails to trace designs on the undersides of his knees. Roman hadn’t even realized how much he wanted to move his legs until now, where the restraint managed to keep his knee perfectly still while somehow not covering an inch of ticklish skin.

He couldn’t even picture how many hands must be on his feet- there were way too many fingers, all fighting to dig into his arches and scratch at the balls of his feet and work their way underneath and in between every single one of his poor toes.

And, of course, there were the hands at Roman’s pits, his most favorite yet most hated tickle spot. It was his instant death spot, and everyone knew it- all anyone had to do to beat him in a tickle fight was to go for his pits. But in those times, he could always fight back, or get his attackers before they got him, or at the very least beg for mercy.

He had no mercy here. The hands were in tuned to his innermost desires, and they still hadn’t stopped. Roman didn’t think it could get any worse.

Until.

Until he felt two hands grazing somewhere new, somewhere he hadn’t even been touched yet. Somewhere soft, and delicate, and so, so sensitive. Somewhere so ticklish it made the rest of the constant tickling feel like background noise in Roman’s mind.

Because suddenly there were two hands at his thighs, fingers pressed right against that oh-so-special tendon where his legs met his pelvis.

Roman had the blink of an eye to process this development.

And then the hands squeezed. And Roman broke.

It was like all of the other sensations had just been the buildup to this, or maybe it was more like by distracting his nerves at all of his other tickle spots, the sensitivity of his thighs was growing more and more, just waiting until he was right at the edge of insanity to push him over.

Spots appeared in his vision as his laughter went silent immediately. Everything else was gone. All he could feel was that awful, awful pinching at the most ticklish spot on his entire body. No one had ever tickled him there before. He was completely unprepared for the unfathomably unbearable sensation. Over and over and over again, the two hands rhythmically and incessantly squeezing each of his thighs in unison. Roman strained against his bonds, desperate to do anything to shake those hands from that spot, but with restraints at both his knees and his pelvis, there was absolutely no escape from the tickles.

Well, there was one escape, Roman knew. The instant he truly wanted the hands to stop, they would.

But they kept going. And they kept going. And they kept going.

Squeeze, pinch, squeeze, pinch, squeeze.

Roman couldn’t breathe. Tears were streaking down his face. His entire body was contracting and spasming against the immobilizing bondage. He shrieked, but no noise came out- his voice had nothing left to give.

And the hands kept going.

The last thought that passed through Roman’s head, before he fully lost himself to this most wonderful torture, was that maybe the hands would never stop. Maybe he would spend the rest of his life here. Maybe he would lose himself to these sensations, and he would never come back. Only time would tell.

After all, this is exactly what he wanted.

[ladybugsfanfics]

(red flags look like normal flags when you’re wearing) rose-tinted glasses

pairing: Tom Hiddleston x platonic!reader

style: one shot

WC: 2.7k

summary: requested by anonymous on tumblr: “Reader is small and have an Danish Dog, thats actually an giant drool dog. While she's taking the dog to the park he start running with Bob while on the tab and he keeps pulling her until Tom saves her. Then Bobby start growling at her, and they think that is bcs he's jealous...”

warnings: angst, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS, ABUSE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, ANIMAL ABUSE, please note the abuse, this fic contains it

A/N: this was really hard to write and i want it to be clear that ive never been in an abusive relationship so ive done my best to portray it and how hard it is to break out of it, but i dont have firsthand information. please let me know if something seems unrealistic or weird. i want you all to know that there are explicit abuse, but that it's not very violent but it still has an emotional impact. please don't read if you know it won't be good for you, and there is a happy ending even tho ive made the relationship between reader and tom platonic (that's more for realistic purposes).

The tall man startles as the bark sounds through the park. You widen your eyes at the sight of the little brown the male walks with. 

No, no, no , you think. 

Your dog, or actually your boyfriend’s dog, is rather big. The giant of a dog also barks whenever he sees brown dogs (as if the dog can be racist, honestly you have no idea how it works, but there are many things that can be the reason), and the dog that man walks with―  

You don’t want to think about it. 

Nor do you get the chance as your tight grip on the leash seems to be your downfall. The dog has almost leapt into the air as the barks rip through the quiet silence of the park. 

“Yoshi! Stop!” you yell, but to no avail. He keeps running, stronger than you even as you put your heels down on the ground and try to brake. 

The tall male has turned around. You send him a pleading look as your dog, almost literally, attacks his little one. In the sudden change of speed, where Yoshi goes from running and barking to hopping around and barking, you trip over your own feet and find yourself on your way to face planting with the ground below. 

A pair of strong arms around your hips keep you from falling and you’re put back up on your feet with your back pressed to a muscular chest. As you regain your balance, the arms fall away. They don’t go far, only to grip the leash of your dog in an attempt to help your arm not dislocate. 

“Thank you,” you say as you crouch down to keep Yoshi under control. He’s stopped barking, and with your soft strokes along his neck, he stops hopping, too. 

“You’re welcome,” replies your saviour. 

Standing up, you find a handsome male looking at you. Curly ginger hair, the most reassuring smile you have ever seen, and gentle blue-green eyes that makes you feel at ease. The way his eyes trace over you make you drag down the sleeve of your jacket slightly, and then you return his smile to the best of your abilities. 

“He can be a little unruly at times, I’m so sorry.” You press your lips together in a tight lipped smile, shaking your head to let your hair come back to the front and cover your neck where your scarf fails. “I think something might’ve happened when he was a puppy because he only reacts to brown dogs.”

The stranger’s smile crinkles his eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle. Your heart beats faster at the sound. You will it to shut up. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.” You swallow the lump in your throat. Throat dry and heart steadily beating faster, the pounding like a drum inside your head. “I’m sorry, again. For the whole… thing. But I should get going now.” 

With a little tug of Yoshi’s leash you turn to continue down the path you were headed. A wait from Tom has you turn back around. He steps closer to you, tugging with him his own dog that so far seems rather docile and that you find super cute. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” he asks. 

If your heart hadn’t already lodged itself in your throat from talking to him, it definitely shot there now. With a steady breath (as steady as you can) you nod. “Yeah, sure.” And you take the phone Tom hands you. 

It takes no time typing in your number, but you nearly drop the phone when Tom’s dog starts barking at you. Big dog eyes that look at you, nose high in the air and the barking growing steadily louder as he continues.

Tom frowns at his dog as he accepts his phone. He shakes his head and tugs at the leash, telling ‘Bobby’ to quiet and that there’s nothing to bark about. “I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s probably a little jealous.”

You try for a smile and a soft laugh but it comes out more strained. “Yes, jealous. Makes sense, I guess.” With a deep sigh, you turn to look at Tom again. “Again, so sorry. I guess I’ll hear from you. Bye.”

And now you leave with Yoshi in tow before Tom can stop you. 

You wonder what he’ll do if he finds out you won’t answer his messages. Wonder if he’ll do the same as your boyfriend does whenever you forget to answer or don’t do something as he wants. 

After all, fear was the only reason you did give Tom your phone number. That reassuring smile fools no one, and those gentle eyes are the same gentle ones he uses in front of others. 

Sorry, Tom, but I won’t exchange him for someone worse . Even if I might deserve it . 

 ---

The door is unlocked when you get home. The shoe rack kicked over and the few sets of jackets that hung in the closet have found their way to the floor. Your heart stops beating as fear settles in your gut. 

This is never good, but neither is cleaning it up before he allows you to, so you kick off your own shoes and let your jacket fall to the floor instead of hanging it up. You unclasp Yoshi’s leash and let him pad into the living room and greet his owner. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you regret letting the dog go in before you. The whimper has tears forming in your eyes. You will them back. You can’t cry. Crying just leads to a worse… you don’t know exactly what to call it. 

“Babe?” you call as you take the steps in after the dog. 

Your boyfriend’s rage filled face meets you. He’s locked the dog in its too small cage, and he hits Yoshi on the snout rather hard as the dog lets out another whimper. 

“Babe, huh?” The retort has your gut churn, nervousness courses through your veins. “What the fuck took you so long?!”

There goes the level voice. You keep from closing your eyes, embracing for impact. He likes it more when you face him head on, as if it’s some kind of challenge. Pressing your lips closed, you let your eyes wander over his face. 

You note the down-tug of his lips, the anger boiling like a hot fire in his eyes, and the flare of his nose as his form towers over you. “Bitch, I asked you a fucking question! What the fuck took you so long?!”

“Yo-Yoshi saw a… a dog. I-I couldn’t hold him back and we-we went on a detour.” God, you sound weak. I am weak , you think, too weak . 

“Couldn’t hold him back, my ass.” He takes a step closer to you. Your body moves on its own when it takes a step back. It continues until your back collides with the wall and he locks you in. “Give me your phone!”

You fish your phone out of your pocket and pray to God Tom hasn’t texted you. You haven’t gotten the chance to block his number yet and if he has texted you, well, life for the next three days will be even worse than usual. You’d deserve it, too, probably.

Fear the only thing holding your body up, you hold your breath as he checks. First when he throws it away with a silent grunt and it lands on the couch, and he doesn’t yell, do you let yourself breathe again. 

“Fucking good for you there was nothing there.” His voice is a rough whisper, hoarse and with an underlying tone of want. He doesn’t say more before he presses his lips to yours, pinning your arms to the wall and pressing your head against it. 

When one of his hands falls to your hip, pressing you close to him, pressing you close to the growing bulge in his pants, you know it’ll bruise. Just like you know the grip on your wrist will bruise and that you won’t be able to walk in the next twenty four to thirty six hours. 

You know because that’s how it always is. 

How it always has been. 

 ---

[07.47] Unknown number Hi, this is Tom. I didn’t have time to send a text yesterday, but I still wanted to tell you that I would like to meet you again. Hope that’s possible. - Tom

[08.29] Unknown number I know you haven’t replied yet, and it’s probably because you have yet to wake up, but when you do, would you be up for a cup of coffee? Either lunch or breakfast, whatever sounds best for you? - Tom

[11.32] you Hi, Tom. This is Y/N. Very sorry, but I can’t meet with you. I have plans all week and the next months. Work is taking my time, so is having a boyfriend and friends. Very sorry about my dog, again, but thank you for saving me from the ground. Have a lovely life.

🛇 Blocked

To move this conversation out of Archived and get messages again, unblock xxxxx-xxxxx 

 Unblock

---

You’re unsure what it is that has you think the thought. It pops up from nowhere, really, but it still sounds… reasonable. 

With aching moves, you pack your things. A suitcase is more than enough for everything you own (your boyfriend keeping your hobbies to a fair minimum), and everything for Yoshi.

As you pack the bare essentials, your body shakes. Every few pieces of clothing thrown into the suitcase lands outside on the floor and your heart hammers in your chest. In the bathroom, finding your toothbrush, you hear a noise from the hallway and your heart shoots into your chest. Rushing out and to the living room, you only find Yoshi with one of his toys. 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes. Fear an ever lurking presence. Putting the leash on Yoshi, you hope he isn’t close. You fumble with the clasp and use far longer than you would have liked to put it on, but thankfully, the dog’s big eyes and somewhat smile and the wagging of his tail, helps put you at ease. 

His work day still has three more hours, meaning he won’t be here for another four. That should be enough time, right? More than enough time…

You leave the door unlocked, having left the key to the apartment on the kitchen counter. If anyone robs it… you fear the repercussions, but by the time he comes home, he shouldn’t be able to find you. 

Even as you walk with Yoshi and the suitcase down the street, finding a taxi and asking him to take you to the police station, you don’t know what has settled in you. You don’t know where this is coming from. This… courage.

You’re unsure whether it was the show you saw last night where the relationship between the two romantic leads, even when they were alone, never had any hitting or bruising or anger in the same way he shows. Or if it was Tom, and the way his face still sits at the back of your mind. How you’d compared his gentle eyes and reassuring smile to his fake mask in front of others. 

Has it really taken you so long to see the difference? To see that Tom’s, despite how instilled with fear you were, actually showed genuine compassion and care, and his is always with an extra layer that it takes a lot of study to see (but what else do you use your time on when you can’t look at others when you’re out?). 

You pay the cab driver as he drops you off and you find your way into the police station. It takes a long half hour before you walk out again and sit down on the curb. It takes another three hours to stop crying and shaking. In those three hours, Yoshi lies his head in your lap and lets the weight of him being close reassure you. A man who tries to help and ask what’s wrong is quickly barked away by the dog guarding you. 

It warms your heart.  

A police officer on her way home asks you what’s wrong, and, as you don’t tell, she tells you to contact someone. She also leads you into the waiting room and tells you to sit there until you find help, even if help doesn’t come from the police. In the hour you sit there, you delete the find my phone app and you block him and everyone associated with him on everything you can remember you share. You wish you’d done it sooner. 

In your phone, you’re left with few options. 

The unblock button is easy to press. The text is everything but easy to send. Your fingers shake as you type, and there are countless spelling mistakes. Finding them all takes a few minutes, and even after telling yourself you’ll send it, your finger hovers over the send button. 

Exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds later (you counted), your finger falls down and you press the send button. Watching it turn blue has your heart beat faster and faster, and you press back the tears pricking at your eyes. Swallowing hurts as your throat is unbearably dry. 

The reply comes a lot faster than you would expect, and it helps ease some of the fear lodged in your body. The tears that fall now are a mixture of relief and fear, and Yoshi lying his head down in your lap again helps you regain your composure. 

Tom picks you and Yoshi up at the police station half an hour later. He offers up his guest bedroom, but you refuse, saying you’ll stay at a hotel until you can find something. You don’t refuse his offer of going somewhere to talk over a cup of coffee.

He helps you find a hotel that allows dogs, helps you check in (unlisted) and joins you for a walk with Yoshi before you find a quiet cafe to sit down at. You sit outside, Yoshi quiet by your feet, but regarding everyone who passes by with a steady look. Being a big dog, you see more than one person a little frightened. It warms your heart.

And the coffee in front of you warms your hands. 

“Thank you, Tom,” you say, after the silence becomes too much. “I haven’t told you anything about why but you’re still willing to help. Thank you.”

Tom smiles. One of his hands leaves his cup and when it comes close to yours, you instinctively flinch―though you don’t move it (that has never gone over well in the past). Tom’s hand hovers over yours and his eyes study you as his brows crease into a frown. Your heart pounds in your chest. “I won’t ask, but I hope I can help. However you need.”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your lower lip and look down at your hands. Both now clench around your coffee cup. The steam rises in the cool air and the smell stirs something in your gut, something that has tears prick at the back of your eyes. You let your hearts incessant pounding die down before you look up Tom. 

“I could use a friend,” you say, eventually. The smile you try to show is crooked and unsure, and you know the fright is visible through it. 

Tom still smiles. His eyes are gentle and reassuring, and it warms you that there actually does exist someone who doesn’t raise his voice at weakness and vulnerability. Someone who wants to help, and who doesn’t demand answers. 

You could use a friend. A friend who lets you find your own way and lets you take your time. 

“Anything you need, Y/N,” replies Tom. “Time, space, money, a hug, a friend . Anything.”

This time, when you smile, it crinkles by your eyes. It’s still crooked and unsure, but most of the fright is gone. 

You’ve finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses.

A/N: you’ve reached the end so please let me know that you’re alright, i care!

permanent tags:  @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1 @murdermornings

tom tags:  @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn​ @mindlesschicca​ @justawriterinprogress​ @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert​ @satanskatze​ @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

[crapitskizaru]

Could you do a scenario of the Law, Sabo and Ace being walked in on while yanking the snake.. if ya know what I mean? And their s/o walking in and helping out *wiggles eyebrows* You’re awesome love ya❤️❤️ 

Warning: filth + law being a bastard his usual self and the ace one is almost like a shitty melodrama i have no idea why i wrote it this way lmao i apologize hes a total clown tho

Word Count: 937 + 922

The Law

Hips buckled into his hand when he picked up the pace of his pumps, the slicky sound of lube filling the room and somehow turning him on even more.

His head reclining against the back of the chair as he closed his eyes and focused on the erupting, cold pleasure in his member.

The irresistible need washed over him when he least expected it - usually he was one to stick to the schedule, but today? It must have been the tension in the air or the fact that he hadn’t gotten a chance to turn intimate with his lover last night; at that time, he considered it a good idea to stay up and read about the effects of a juvenile hormone. A great idea indeed.

He cursed silently when his back arched - thousands of electric bolts accumulating in his body signaled he’s already close to release.

Hand overrun by his own precum, he massaged his cock with shorter, more rapid strokes, head leaning further back and eyes squeezed shut in anticipation for the icy feeling to erupt. “O-oh~Fuck-”

Just as he was about to reach his peak, someone’s light footsteps echoed behind the door, on the corridor. With only few rational thoughts in his tired brain being able to function properly - all the other ones focused on visualizing his partner very close and very naked - he realized there are only a couple of seconds left before someone catches him on the act. 

He let out a heavy huff and came to a conclusion that, whoever’s coming towards his cabin right now, he doesn’t mind their audience - if anything, one member of his crew will be left with the image of their captain beating his cock imprinted in their mind forever, most probably leaving scars that are far beyond healing. Law determined it’s a pretty low price to pay in exchange for his pleasure, so he kept going. 

“You really have no shame at all, don’t you?” 

At the sound of his lover’s voice, he stopped his hand just as he was about to give in to the orgasmic wave and made a show of lazily turning his head in the direction of the door, as if the whole situation much rather bored him than, God forbid, made him embarrassed. 

“I didn’t know you talk to yourself. I shouldn’t be surprised, especially when it comes to this crew.” Law retreated to his previous position with furrowed eyebrows, a slicky sound produced when he wrapped his palm around his warm member once again. “It is indeed quite shameful to be barging in to a stranger’s cabin without knocking. Good for you for realizing that. Now leave me alone and go think about your sins.” 

He forced himself to close his eyes and catch up to the previous pleasure. It already felt good when he started straining his wrist over his shaft one more time. 

“Oh, you’re no stranger to me, Law~” 

Their approaching voice caused yet another sparkle of excitement to rush through his veins, but he didn’t want them to think they have such an effect on him, so he tried his best to hide it. 

“I’ve been trying to cum for over half of a goddamn hour,” Law murmured, fixing his eyes on theirs. “Either get on your knees or get out.” 

As they slowly sank to rest in between his legs, he couldn’t help but flash them a cocky smirk. Their tongue could do wonders to his cock, he already knew that. 

But, apparently, it was not to be. A faint pulse of pleasure striked when they delivered a small kitten lick to his tip, only to stand up again and climb up onto his lap. 

He groaned in protest - their mouth was so close to where he needed them to be just mere seconds ago - but it was soon muffled by their lips pressing against his in a rough manner. 

“Oh, God, you’re the worst,” they muttered into the kiss and grasped his warm shaft. “Of all the pirate captains, I had to run into you.” 

“How unfortunate.” The sarcastic tone lacing his voice was soon turning into one of surprise when they started massaging his cock in slow, precise movements, each stroke delivering a spike of pleasure down his core. 

They kissed him again, seemingly satisfied when he was in no state of mind to answer with words. Instead, the way in which his whole body stiffened indicated how close he was to the edge.

“Does it feel good?” they asked, pulling away from his lips and studying his face. His jawbone taut, eyelids fluttering and mouth parted open in a silent moan - the look of an absolute sin. “Is my captain satisfied?” 

“Make me cum and we’ll see ab-” he paused, suddenly reclining his head back against the chair and thrusting up with his hips as the strokes of their hand eventually caused the wave of pleasure to flow through his body that one final time. “Oh, fuck.” 

They held his cock firmly, steadily, until the last bits of cum dripped down the shaft. Law had his breath almost fully back by then, observing their face with such interest as if it was another one of the study subjects in his textbook; his fingers reaching up and tangling in their hair when they sat back on his thighs. 

“You’ve officially satisfied your captain,” he said, voice returning to its usual level of cockiness. “Your life is complete now.” 

“I really think I hate you,” they muttered and leaned in to kiss him again. 

Acey 

“C’mon, c’mon!” he grunted, impatient. His wrist started to hurt like mad, but he had to ignore it for the sake of cumming as soon as possible, preferably before someone catches him. 

And it would be a rather unfortunate turn of events. 

The room he found himself in was dark and as tiny as it could get. Although it was hot, stuffy, filled with heavy bags of flour and practically uninhabitable, Ace definitely liked it in the pantry; the courtesy of his annoyingly persistent erection being hidden from prying eyes - which let him take care of the problem himself. 

His black suit kept restricting his movements and the red tie clutched far too tight around his neck, only spurring the droplets of sweat to form on his face. It was getting increasingly harder to breathe, the unpleasant fact acting as yet another factor that convinced him to pick up the pace of his pumps. 

“Shit,” he gasped, throwing his head back, his upper body shaking from the movements of his whole arm. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

His climax was almost there - but not yet within reach. Ace grunted again, this time from sheer frustration. At this rate, he’ll get to leave the room somewhere over the course of a decade or a millenium. Or at least that’s how it seemed from his perspective. 

Eventually, the pain in his wrist became unbearable, to the point where he could do nothing more than just sneer in resignation and rest his sweaty forehead against the wall in front, his breathing ragged and irregular, his hard cock in one hand. 

“Have you guys seen Ace?” 

A muffled question emerged from behind the door and the man immediately straightened up. His partner would surely want to help when he was in such a dire need, wouldn’t they? 

He carefully opened the door, peeking through the narrow gap. There they were, tauntingly standing close enough for him to reach. 

“Hey,” he whisper-yelled, almost smashing his face into the door gap. “Hey, (Name), you busy?”

Only when he started speaking did they manage to notice him. Ace would have regretted not capturing the horrified look of surprise on their face that appeared upon seeing him, but he had more urgent matters to worry about. 

“Ace? What the hell is-”

The words were cut off from their mouth when he suddenly pulled them inside the pantry. Afterwards, when the situation was conjured up in his brain, he wondered how it was possible that his lover hadn’t been scarred for life - after all, having a man in a crumpled tuxedo randomly dragging you into a stuffy, completely dark room in the middle of a party certainly wasn’t something you’d experience everyday. 

“Listen, the situation’s bad-” he murmured conspiratorially while closing the door behind him. “-but my dick is hard and I really need to cum.” 

There was a moment of silence, during which Ace wondered whether or not he’s taken it too far. Since he couldn’t see anything in the dark, he had no choice but to awkwardly stare into where he assumed his lover currently stood. 

“What?” The accusing tone in their voice somehow caused a spike of excitement to run down his still-hard member. “Ace, for God’s sake, are you completely out of your mind? It’s your father’s birthday!” 

“Yes, I am aware of the fact. Try telling it to my fella down here. And also, if you could kindly restrain from mentioning my father while I hold my cock-” 

“You’re such a fool,” they whispered, searching for his chest in the dark. Eventually they found it and, clutching the drapes of his suit, pulled him into a quick kiss. “Don’t mess up my hair.” 

Ace grinned, excitement flaring up his whole face as he shifted to move closer to them. Immediately, he tripped over a bag of flour on the floor and stumbled into his lover, making them yelp in surprise. 

“Sorry, baby,” he breathed, holding onto one of the shelves. “I really wanna get out of here.” 

“I wouldn’t have guessed that one.” 

He could already feel the heat radiating off of their body and the salty sweat on their neck as he sent a trail of kisses along it, just to get them into the mood. And when they eventually sank to their knees and grasped his erection, he could only pray that no one on the damn ship will hear his moans. 

“Oh~” The first indication of pleasure ringed in the small space when they took him in their mouth. His hand clenched on the shelf even more as he restrained himself from tangling his fingers in their hair, which he usually did during such situations. “Fuck, yes, baby. Keep going like this, I’m gonna cum soon.” 

The deliciously cold feeling of bliss took over his lower body, making his thighs tremble and hips snap forward without a warning, the darkness only strengthening all of the senses besides sight. 

Their tongue rolled over his shaft and he knew it was the final trigger he needed to finally climax - his eyes closing shut and mouth rolling open in a silent groan. 

“Baby!” he gasped after a short while, pushing his cock further into their mouth to ensure their swallow every last bit of his cum. “Oh, baby, you’re so good~” 

The slicky sound could be heard when they licked their lips clean and stood up, careful not to stumble in the dark. 

“Can we get back to the party now? I need a drink.” 

[panticwritten]

Unbind Me? (for whoever you want)

OKAY I FINALLY DID IT!! Sorry it took so long, and thank you so much for sending this!

This takes place August 2017. There’s not a lot of context here, but tbh it would take more than 1500 words to give anywhere near enough context to make some things in this make sense.

Content warnings: Unreality, implied memory loss, implied suicidal ideation.

—//—

I know Connor will have a great big I told you so waiting for me when we get back. I told you, he’ll say, that you can’t just ignore trauma. There’ll be a whole thing, and everyone is gonna agree with him even though no one else deals with their bullshit either.

“What’ll you do with him when we get back?” Jarie tugs at the rope between the two of us. She walks a step behind me, but I still feel the pointed look she aims at Jordan.

I tighten my grip on his wrist. Some might say it’s unnecessary, considering he’s also tied to me. I don’t trust him not to use the memories to wiggle away. Not for the reasons the Master thinks, but because of one trait I know he shares with Connor.

He doesn’t think he deserves forgiveness for crimes he never even committed.

“Figure out what’s really going on.”

“We know!” she snaps. “Do you think I’ve been running around with someone else in my head for fun?”

Guilt throbs from Jordan. He doesn’t say anything, still, and I wonder why. I wonder why he doesn’t defend himself, why he doesn’t tell her the truth. Doesn’t tell me the truth. He obviously thinks I think he did this if his insistence he stay out here means anything. 

The lonely boy trapped in the memories, stuck in a hole in the darkness and surrounded by both my nightmares and his own. Jarie led me right to him, only a trace of what really controlled her left in her head by the time I tracked them both down.

Still. There’s something else.

Something, something, something doesn’t taste right around here.

“It’s just like you to stop with the easy answer,” I mutter around the buttery feeling in my mouth. “It’s all horses to you.”

A bolt of confusion lances through her irritation, through her anger. She doesn’t have to ask her question. Not here, not in a place as personal as the memories.

“I’m on a zebra hunt.”

Really, it’s so familiar. I’ve felt this before. The quality of those remnants in Jarie’s head, the vague taste of late nights and this feeling. It’s right on the tip of my tongue. It’s there, and whatever it is makes me much more nervous than the idea that Connor’s missing half might be secretly evil.

“Oh, great.”

The blank slate of the Memories shifts. A baby blue wall slams down in front of us, the floor now a ratty green carpet. The single window only shows inky darkness, no sign of what really would have been outside my room in…

What year would this have been?

I ignore both Jarie’s demand for an explanation and Jordan’s nervous protest when I drop his hand and twist around to assess the room.

Pictures up on the walls, a camping mat instead of a bed. Most of the furniture against the one wall, but that desk… next to the door…

“2013? No, no.” I snap around again, only limited by the rope still tight around my waist. Laptop on the dresser, the old one, the one I kept stealing from the living room. “2012. That summer, the good one.”

Jarie immediately stops her complaining. “That summer? What are we doing in 2012?”

“I was thinking, trying to remember.” I tilt my head and look out the window. Sharp, shifting red and blue. An easy assumption, but it wasn’t a real-life thing. No sirens, nothing out of the ordinary in the real world. “I’m so close, what is that taste?”

“What taste?” Jarie demands. “You’ve been weird since we picked him up.”

“Ugh, shut up!” I groan. “There’s a taste, like—like—“

I stop because we’re not alone in the room anymore. Based on how close Jarie shuffles to me, I’d say she feels it too. The memory itself isn’t tampered with, it’s normal even with the red and the blue that I only really saw through someone else’s eyes.

The lights! That red and blue wasn’t even here, I was trying to do something at—and that taste! It’s like—

“You would expect memories to be different, wouldn’t you?” a voice, a familiar voice, muses. I don’t need to look to see those eyes, for the growl of a smile to sink into my skin and root me to the floor. “But, then, you never go-ot the o-opportunity to really feel it, did you?”

Blank, blank, my brain turns to nothing but faint static and false clarity.

Jarie lunges toward the voice, still behind me. The rope keeps her from actually attacking. That’s good. Even a memory of Tchaikovsky could ruin us if we let it.

Jordan, on the other hand, stumbles in the opposite direction, away from the threat. He ends up where I can see him, red eyes wide and scared and anything but an enemy. He focuses on me, a plea.

It takes the purr of a laugh from behind me to really shake me out of it. It rubs the situation wrong, a thorn in the fabric. It’s just a memory, but this doesn’t fit.

I turn, too stiff, too mechanical. This fear, nothing more than the remnants of a horror movie. The big, bad monster stands in the middle of my old room and I know he can’t do a single thing to hurt me.

The victorious, smug glint is right. The line of the shoulders, the hungry touch in the air. The confidence. All of that’s right. The chuckle fits what I’m being told.

I narrow my eyes. That’s not a memory. That’s something else, and it’s lying to me.

“Jarie.” I flex my hand and curl my fingers around the newly-arrived map back home. She doesn’t answer with more than a frustrated agreement in the air. Good. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Don’t be so sure.” The specter shifts on its heels, as if it’s going to take a step forward. It laughs again when Jarie skitters back to stand just barely behind me. “Does your brava-ado hide the sa-ame cowardice?”

Jarie growls at my side and snatches the map from me. It takes less than a thought to reconfigure the ropes. I don’t even have to look away from the boogieman. From the fake.

The door slams shut out of sight, Jarie and Jordan both gone.

This is so familiar, why don’t I remember? That affect to its voice, I know I’ve heard it before!

“Tchaikovsky wasn’t here for this.” Might as well start with what I know for sure. Wary, tired, but at least I can keep a lie of control here. “Who are you, really?”

“I tho-ought you knew everything in your Cube.” It sneers and loses the characteristic poise of the face it wears. It does nothing to dispel the tension in the air. “You certainly believed so o-on this day, my fa-avorite interloper.”

Ah.

I shift, and in a blink I have it backed against a wall. I didn’t expect it to back up on its own, though it certainly makes this easier. White hot sparks fizz over the hand I raise toward the throat it stole from a man I’d love nothing more than to wipe from the Cube’s history.

“You,” I growl, my voice strange under the force of electricity I hold. “Don’t belong here.”

It breathes out a nervous laugh, and it really did choose the wrong face if it didn’t want me to be tempted to crush it like the worm it’s masquerading as. It shouldn’t be here, I haven’t even talked to Brennan in at least a year! It can’t be here!

“If you ever ca-ame to visit, you’d know I’ve been here for nearly five years.” It presses back against the wall, its voice strained and seething. “But then, you a-alwa-ays neglect to fo-ollow up o-on your little ga-ames, don’t you?”

It flinches when I raise my hand and a spark lands on its neck. Tchaikovsky’s milky skin fades there, just for a second, into the scratched plastic that it was hiding.

“You disappeared.” I shift just a little bit closer, close enough that I can really see through the illusion. Just a broken mannequin, full of a thing that doesn’t belong anywhere near my head. “I was thirteen. Why would I even think to look for you?”

“I stole ha-alf a-a summer from you!”

Now that I can see both its illusion and the blankness of its true face, it’s both less intimidating and more disconcerting. So close, though, I see something else. Something that speaks volumes more than anything it could say to me.

I step back, though I don’t take the sparks with me. They hang in the air, a simple enough threat, just beside its throat. It doesn’t relax. In fact, that same something only twists and shakes the air around those sparks.

“AA.” I dip into the voice I try to avoid. The voice of a leader, I suppose, or a commander as Jay’s described it. The voice of someone who expects their orders to be followed. I hate it, though it does get the attentiveness from AA that I’m looking for. “Why reveal yourself now?”

It doesn’t answer. I wait longer than I probably should, and I know what I have to do. I’m gonna get hell when I get back. I hate this slimy little monster, but I can’t feel that and see it in the air and still bring everyone the blood they’re going to want.

I’ll already be getting a trial for Jordan. I may as well get one for the thing that I’d be willing to bet is really behind all of this. Especially when I’m almost ninety percent sure it lured me out here just to kill it.

[paladinsuho-moved]

stay with me [chanbaek]

summary: when byun baekhyun wakes up in the ER and can’t remember anything about the car crash, or the man who was driving, who is apparently his husband, he braces himself feel pity for the man, one park chanyeol. it comes as quite a surprise to him and everyone involved when chanyeol wakes up and doesn’t remember him either.

ship: chanbaek (park chanyeol x byun baekhyun)

genre: ANGST, fluff

warnings: minor language, minor medical procedures, hospitals, my bad attempts at humor.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write this since,, january. and i just finished this like, twenty minutes ago. this is going to be a more baekhyun-centric fic, as you can see in this first chapter, but there will be chapters focused on chanyeol. this fic is my baby (do i not say that about all of my other fics tho?), so please, i hope you guys enjoy (and also enjoy my girlfriends’ appearance in this, amber and krystal from f(x)) ;-; happy suffering! also, the part about crime shows being the only thing to watch at the hospital comes from personal experience, i know what i’m talking about.

masterlist

chapter one: my name is byun baekhyun

“What do you remember?”

He remembers feeling angry. An argument, but not what he was saying. The car, soft pop music from the radio almost taunting him with its chipper melodies. Sitting in shotgun, when lights come into sight, blinding him. The impact, his senses kicking into overdrive as the car hits his. And next to him, in the driver’s seat…

“A man. Th-there was a man with me.”

The nurse and the doctor exchange a look, before looking back to him. He feels uncomfortable, as if he’s a science project being poked and prodded at -- he hopes this ends soon. He wants to go back to sleep, even though he’d been unconscious ten minutes ago.

“What’s your name, sir?” Doctor Liu’s voice is monotonous, lifting her clipboard and looking at some documents, papers that he can’t see. He searches his mind for a moment, eyes darting here and there as he ponders the answer.

“B-Baekhyun. My name is Byun Baekhyun.”

The nurse eyes the documents the doctor is looking at, then nods. “Good. You remember that much. How old are you, Mr. Byun?”

He bites his lip, racking his brain for an answer. He remembers being 21, but he doesn’t feel 21. And judging by what appears to be the wedding ring on his left hand, he’s definitely not 21.

“I… I can’t remember.”

Once more, to Baekhyun’s dismay, the nurse and the doctor exchange glances once more. He sighs in slight desperation, wondering when they’ll just get to the point. “W-what’s wrong with me, doctor?”

The doctor looks over to Baekhyun, and sighs at the look on his face. “Mr. Byun, what do you remember about the man who was with you in the car?”

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, before clenching his jaw so hard that he can feel the way his teeth grind together, like gears that don’t fit well with each other. He can’t find a face, or a voice, or a name of the mystery man driving the car. The only thing he’s sure of is that he must’ve been very angry, too angry, to start yelling.

“I can’t remember anything, I’m sorry.”

The doctor nods firmly, before pulling the nurse to the side to speak for a while. He fiddles nervously with his fingers, staring at his right leg, which is stuck in a cast whiter than the stark bright lights of the hospital room, the ones that greeted him when he first woke up, the ones that made him wonder if he was dead.  

He catches a few words here and there, but doesn’t strain his ears to listen -- he doesn’t really care. He’s still in shock, asking himself why he doesn’t remember anything, even though deep down, he knows the answer. He’s seen that movie with Channing Tatum and Rachel McAdams, he’s not stupid. Amnesia.

Ironically, as he silently asks himself how old he is, racking his brain for any trace of a memory of his last birthday, he can’t come up with anything other than the lyrics to that stupid Blink 182 song. He rolls his eyes at himself, before lying back down, shutting his eyes and trying to shut out everything else around him.

“Mr. Byun?” The nurse asks less than a minute later, now having finished her exchange with the doctor. He perks up, eyes opening and beginning to sit up. “Yes?”

The nurse walks towards his IV and begins to ensure that everything is in check, and Baekhyun winces at the slight discomfort as the needle under his skin moves slightly as the tube connected to it is tampered with.

“Mr. Byun, if you truly can’t remember the accident, your age and the man in the car with you, then, my diagnosis would have to be post-traumatic amnesia, along with physical damage -- three bruised ribs, a concussion, and a broken leg.” Doctor Liu’s voice is firm; non accusatory yet stern.

Baekhyun nods, furrowing his eyebrows as the official diagnosis sets in. “H-how long was I unconscious, exactly?”  

At this, the doctor scratches the back of her head, before glancing at her papers once more. “According to this… Sixteen hours. You should feel lucky that you’re awake, Mr. Park is still unconscious, and with the damage he’s sustained, we’re unsure if he’ll wake up at all--”

“Mr. Park?” Baekhyun can’t help but interrupt, the mention of a new name, and the curiosity inside him wonders if this was the man driving the car, the one he’d been arguing with.

“Oh, yes -- sorry about that. The man who was with you, driving the car. He received most of the trauma, given the fact that he was in the side of the car where the truck crashed into it. His name is Park Chanyeol, and according to these files, and the visitors you’ve had… Well, he’s your husband.”

Husband? Baekhyun thinks, furrowing his eyebrows, Wait, I’m gay? That’s so… Actually… That’s not surprising. Like, at all.

Still, he can’t deny the cold feeling washing down his spine as he sits up from the hospital bed, like when the wind blows at you while you’re walking through the rain, and the wetness makes it worse.

“Wait, so… h-how is he? Chanyeol.”

Doctor Liu purses her lips and exhales sharply through her nose, as if she doesn’t want to share the information. For a moment, she tilts her head back and forth, weighing the consequences.

Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, and a twinge of involuntary guilt blooms in the middle of his chest -- what will happen when this man wakes up, and Baekhyun has no idea who he is?

Doctor Liu eventually lifts the papers on her clipboard to check her facts before reporting back to Baekhyun. Quietly, gently, trying to sugar-coat the damage.

“He's… he’s not good. Two broken ribs, a broken wrist, a concussion.”

Baekhyun winces at the news, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together in hopes that they don't start shaking. He takes a deep, shaky breath before gathering the courage to speak again.

“But he's not awake? I can't go to see him, or anything—”

“You're still supposed to stay in bed, Mr. Byun, because of your leg,” Nurse Krystal reminds him, “And even if you could, Mr. Park hasn't woken up since the accident. He's not in critical condition anymore, but—”

“Krystal,” Doctor Liu interjects through somewhat gritted teeth, “This is obviously overwhelming information, for someone who just woke up himself. Let's give him a while to process this before we tell him the whole story. Unless, that's what you want, Mr. Byun—”

“N-no, please.” Baekhyun doesn't look at either of them, staring straight ahead at the dull bluish gray wall of the hospital room, “I’d rather not do this right now. I’d like to rest, if that's alright.”

Doctor Liu nods, and so does Nurse Krystal, eyes showing a slight amount of remorse and guilt. The nurse explains that the button behind him on the wall will notify her or any other nurse on duty. He nods once, indicating understanding, and with that, the pair take their leave.

When the door finally closes, he realizes he'd been holding his breath. Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, shutting his eyes for a minute, taking everything in.

My name is Byun Baekhyun. I was in a car accident. I have amnesia. I'm gay, but that’s honestly not much of a surprise. I'm married. My husband still hasn't woken up.

My husband's name is Park Chanyeol. I don't remember anything about him.

His eyes open, slowly, as his gaze curiously glances down to find the wedding ring on his left hand. Clenching his jaw, he quickly removes it to inspect it more closely.

He cradles it gently, as though it's made of  glass. It's nothing too flashy, silver and gold sandwiched together to meet in the middle. On the inside, he catches an engraving, and he brings it closer to his eyes, closing one of them and squinting in order to read the tiny text.

To Baek, from here to the stars.

He sets it down on the small table for a moment, before realizing he could lose it, and half a second later, despite feeling his skin crawl he puts it back on.

His skin doesn't crawl because he woke up married to someone he couldn't remember. That happens to the average person after a wild weekend in Vegas. His skin crawls because it feels wrong to be here, wearing the ring.

He feels like an impostor who's taking the place of someone else. He doesn't… he doesn't know this man, this Park Chanyeol. He's not sure if he'd love Park Chanyeol if he woke up and barged into his hospital room claiming to know and love him.

Because he had a feeling that, in the best case scenario, Park Chanyeol had loved a Byun Baekhyun—but not the Byun Baekhyun that was currently in charge of steering the sinking ship. It's a horrible way to think, but it was the truth. The ugly truth, yes, but still the truth.

A knock on the door jolts him back to reality, and half a second later he’s glancing up to see the door opening, and to his relief, it’s finally a familiar face. Two faces, actually, as his best friends, Minseok and Jongdae enter the room.

Jongdae’s expression is slightly happier than Minseok’s, and as Jongdae closes the room, they exchange a brief look. As they make their way towards Baekhyun, he manages to crack a small smile.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he can manage to say without breaking down completely. He feels like he’s just jumped off of a plane, and his parachute isn’t working. He’s falling, falling, and there’s nothing to slow down his momentum.

“Hey, Baek.” Minseok’s response is quiet, and while he manages a smile, he still sounds grim. “How’re you doing?”

He shrugs, tongue lying heavy in his mouth. “I’ve been better. I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”

Once again, the pair in front of him exchange looks, before looking back to him. Jongdae puts his hand on the small railing of his hospital bed, and leans against it, careful not to let it roll around too much.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He holds up his left hand shakily, showing off the ring. “Do you have any idea just how terrifying this is? I’m married, for fuck’s sake.”

Jongdae’s face flashes in a somewhat sympathetic expression, and Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, desperate. “Doctor Liu told us everything. I’m sorry, Baek. We’ve been here since yesterday, if it makes you feel any better. Waiting for you to wake up.”

“How long have I been married to this guy? Chanyeol?” Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, exhaling through his nostrils.

Jongdae opens his mouth to speak, raising a hand, but Minseok cuts him off, nodding his head back and forth as he speaks. “It’s going to be four years next may.”

“And how long have I known him?”

Minseok pauses for a moment, looking to Jongdae for a moment, before back to Baekhyun. Baekhyun notices something in Jongdae’s eyes for a brief second, but it’s gone before he can tell what. “Well, you guys met that night we had that big party at my house... That was a few weeks before your college graduation, so that would make it six years now.”

Baekhyun nods, face still scrunched up at the information. He’s staring at his lap, processing what Minseok just told him. If his math is correct, and he’d known Park Chanyeol for six years, then he’s most likely 27. The room falls silent for a few moments, before Jongdae finally sighs, before speaks.

“You guys really love each other, if it makes you feel any better. He takes good care of you, just like you take care of him, you know?”

Baekhyun’s smile is sad, and once more, he looks down at the ring on his finger. “I just… I don’t want to know how he’ll react when he wakes up. I don’t remember him, but I also don’t want him to hurt, you know?”

Minseok puts his hand on Baekhyun’s back, giving him a few rough pats. “It’ll be hard on him, probably. But he’s pretty optimistic, and if I’m right, he won’t give up on you. He loves you too much.”

“And besides,” Jongdae interjects, “Yeol’s a big boy, he can handle you.”

“Figuratively, and literally. He’s tall as hell. And if what I remember from you being drunk a few years ago is true… He’s a big boy, if you know what I mean.” Minseok smirks, trying to lighten the mood, wiggling his eyebrows before both Jongdae and Baekhyun smack him, Baekhyun snorting.

“Shut up, hyung,” Baekhyun and Jongdae say in unison, before turning to quietly laugh at each other.

Once the laughter bubbles down, Baekhyun smiles at both of them, tilting his head. “Thanks for being here, guys. I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone by myself.”

“We’ll always be here to help,” Minseok replies, “We weren’t going to just leave you here.”

Baekhyun’s smile grows, and Jongdae ruffles his hair. “I mean, the only reason you were alone when you woke up was because we were hungry as hell, and the bibimbap they have here is great, but at least we're here now.”

“Jongdae?”

“Yes, Baek?”

“Shut up.”

The days pass slowly, Minseok and Jongdae taking turns so that he wouldn't be alone, except at night, when they went back to their homes to sleep.

Minseok and Jongdae have helped to fill in some, but not all, of the gaps as the days pass. He's 28, he's a preschool teacher, Chanyeol works an office job, and up until now, the only child they've had is their cat, Asshole. He's still not sure if Jongdae was kidding or not when he told him the cat’s name.

His memories still haven't come back, and a little voice at the back of his mind asks if they ever will.

His days were occupied by Minseok’s fussing, Jongdae’s bad jokes, Doctor Liu’s check-ups, bland, unseasoned lunches and dinners, reruns of Law and Order: SVU on the television, failed attempts to stick a straw into his leg cast to scratch at any itch he gets. And, of course, thoughts of Park Chanyeol.

He asks, at one point on the third day, if he can visit him, to which Doctor Liu denies him, saying she didn't want him to get stressed.

He's definitely not dumb. He knows that if Chanyeol still hasn't woken up after this long, that something is wrong, and if he was, at one point, emotionally involved with him, he at least wants to see him, just to see what he looks like. He would've looked through his phone to find a picture, but it was destroyed in the accident.

It's on the eighth day after he wakes up that Baekhyun finally catches a break, and Doctor Liu tells him he's responsive, but not fully awake.

“We think he’ll be fully awake and responsive by tomorrow,” Doctor Liu explains during her daily check-up, “You're doing much better, would you like to see him then?”

Baekhyun contemplates the offer for a moment, before nodding. “Might as well get it over with,” He answers, and Doctor Liu nods with a small smile.

When Minseok comes back and he explains what she'd told Baekhyun, he nods and smiles at the news.

“That's good, man, that's good. You'll be fine. I know you will.”

He can’t sleep that night. He’s too restless, too impatient, too scared. The man he’s meeting in a few hours is his husband, but he still can’t remember a thing. And that terrifies him.

The way his memories can’t remember anything about him make him want to keep Park Chanyeol at a cold, clinical distance, barely within arm’s reach.

But the way Minseok and Jongdae have been filling his empty head with stories of the man who gave him the ring that, for some reason, he refuses to take off, makes him doubt. They’d said Chanyeol would be willing to wait for him. But what if he didn’t?

To wake up in a world where the one you loved has been replaced by someone who wants nothing to do with you, now that is the most terrifying thought indeed.

He sits impatiently the entire morning, he barely even manages to down his morning coffee. The reruns of Law and Order: SVU that play on the TV manage to calm him down, but it can only do so much. Neither Jongdae nor Minseok are with him, finally being called back to their respective jobs. By the time Doctor Liu comes around, he’s practically bouncing off the walls.

“Good morning, Baekhyun.” Her voice is warm, calming, her tone motherly. He smiles, nodding.

“Sleep well?” She asks, and he drops the smile, shaking his head. “I barely slept. I’m terrified, Doc.”

She nods, understandingly. “It can be a bit overwhelming. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I haven’t gone in to see him yet -- but I assume he’s asking about you already. It’ll be fine, they’ve probably told him about your condition, so it might not be as much of a shock once he sees you again for the first time.”

He doesn’t respond; her encouragement doesn’t exactly ease the high speed nerves churning in his stomach, as if someone’s pressed the puree button on a blender.

She helps him out of bed, and he groans slightly as he’s helped into the wheelchair that they’ve brought him to move to the bathroom or anywhere else if he needed to, seeing as his leg is still in the cast. They told him it’d be another month and a half before he’s able to walk right, assuming he takes care of himself.

He assumes the way to Park Chanyeol’s room will take a while, so he decides he’ll think of what to say as Doctor Liu helps him get there.

Big mistake. It’s right next to his, and he almost pisses himself when he comes to this realization. But at the same time, he was less than twenty feet away from Park Chanyeol, and no one told him? Rude.

This hospital room is different to his; it has a small hallway before it opens towards where he assumes that the bed lies. He can’t see anything, or anyone, except for a wall.

“Mr. Park, are you awake?” Doctor Liu says, and he hears a hum of confirmation. The voice is deep, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, his hands gripping the sides of the wheelchair until his knuckles turn whiter than the walls.

“Come on in,” The voice says, and he takes a deep breath as the wheelchair rolls into the room,  and, for the first not first time, he finally sees Park Chanyeol, face to face.

The first thing he notices are the ears. They’re big, and stick out underneath dark, black hair. His eyes are dark, quickly bouncing between him and the doctor, and the few small tattoos he has along his arms seem to jump out at him against the background of tan skin. He has a few stitches, and the circles under his eyes are dark, as if he hadn’t been sleeping for more than a week, but he still manages to take Baekhyun’s breath away.

If being gay didn’t come as a surprise him, the fact that he fell for this gorgeous human somehow surprises him even less.

“I’m Doctor Liu, I assumed Doctor Kim told you about me?”

“Yes, he did,” Chanyeol says, nodding. His voice is deep, and soft, as Chanyeol’s eyes meet Baekhyun’s. The blender of nerves sitting in Baekhyun’s stomach goes into overdrive, from puree to instant death from the inside out.

Chanyeol studies Baekhyun for a moment, and Baekhyun waits for it to come: a hey, sweetheart, or Baekhyun, you’re here, or something along those lines that will make Baekhyun’s chest tighten with pity.

Instead, what Chanyeol says next causes his eyes to widen, and the blender to turn off, as if it’s been dropped off a cliff along with the rest of his stomach.

“Doctor… Who’s this?”

[chapter two: my name is park chanyeol]

[officialavasti]

The smut chapter (Only a little tho)

Connor carefully sets the refrigerator down in the space Markus indicates, smiling as the man starts hooking wires and tubes up to it. Officially, the fridge is the last large appliance they need to move. All other furniture is in the house and organized according to plan. 

Connor turns back towards the front door, stopping short when he sees Hank’s incredulous expression,

“Lieutenant?”

“Con, you just moved a fridge on your own.”

“My model has a lifting capacity of ten thousand pounds.”

“Why?!”

Markus wraps his arms around Connor and presses a kiss to his cheek, “So he can carry the entire world on his shoulders.”

Connor pouts as Hank and Markus laugh, “Yeah, haha, very funny. Coming from the Android who carried the entire revolution single handedly, hmm?”

“I had support!”

“Markus.”

They stare at each other, eventually reaching a silent agreement and sealing their truce with a kiss. Connor moves from the hug and towards the door, “What else needs to be brought in? I know all the heavy stuff is put away…” 

For the next several hours, Connor, Hank, and Markus move the two androids in. Unsealing boxes, hanging clothing, and filling storage closets. Connor hands Hank a beer, a silent promise that they’re done, and the help was very appreciated.

“It almost looks like a real home.”

Hank elbows Connor’s ribs, “It <i>is</i> a real home, kid. You and Markus live here, it’s a home.”

Connor feels Markus’ hand slip into his, silently opening an interface between them. Connor frowns,

<i>”Markus, are you-”

“It wont be a proper home until we fuck on every surface available.”</i>

Connor’s eyes go wide and he turns to gawk at Markus, smirking beside him, “You promised me silk, dear husband.”

Markus cackles into the open space of their kitchen, prompting Hank to stare at them, “Whatever android mojo you’re tossin around, I don’t want it. I’m guessing it’s got something to do with christening the house, so I’m leaving. See you two later.” He tosses his half finished beer out and leaves in his rumbling car.

Connor waits, still as can be, until Hank’s GPS signal is a good mile away from the house before turning to smile sweetly at Markus, “Poor Hank.”

“I still can’t believe Mr.Kamski called you a sex toy.”

Connor rolls his eyes and walks into the living room, looking around. He hears Markus follow him. Their new home is modest, but new. Markus immediately fell in love with the house due to the layout similarities between this house and Carl’s. 

“Still feels empty to me.”

Markus hugs him, looking around their mostly empty living room, “Because it is, darling. We need to collect things.”

“Like a wall of books. A piano, and paints, and-”

“You love Carl’s house as much as I do, don’t you?”

“And some jazz vinyls.”

Connor smiles up at Markus and the latter leans down for a kiss, murmuring into Connor’s mouth, “Give it time.”

Connor lets himself get lost in the kiss. Reasonably speaking, Markus doesn’t smell like anything. He smells like their laundry detergent, like the soap he uses, like the tiny spritz of cologne that he uses after a shower. All together, he smells like home. Connor lets that scent intoxicate him, he lets the slide of their tongues pull at the intricate wires of his body, he lets the warm slide of Markus’ hands stir feelings he’s never had before.

It gets a little overwhelming. The draw of the wires, taught through his body and an insistent ache near his core. He pulls away with a tiny gasp, knows by the way Markus looks at him that they’re both feeling the update to their software.

“Connor?”

“Please.”

Their bedroom is on the top level of the house, and Markus promised him silk sheets, so Connor grabs his hand and pulls him up the steps, pausing every few to plant a heated kiss on his lips. They reach the top of the stairs and Connor can’t resist anymore, he presses himself against Markus’ lithe body and kisses from his mouth, to his jaw, down his neck. He relishes the small noises Markus makes, little grunts and growls and breathy pants. But the other man seems slightly more impatient, practically carrying Connor to the bedroom.

Connor lets himself be maneuvered, quietly thrilling when Markus lifts him off the ground to lay him on the bed. Connor feels his mouth go dry and a tight ball of desire coil taught as Markus positions himself between Connor’s legs, leaning over him and pinning his arms to the bed above his head.

Connor blinks as a system prompt flashes in his hud.

<b>Enable Intimacy Protocol?

Y/N</b>

Connor enables it, and gasps at the sudden flood of feeling he gets. Without fully meaning to, he grips Markus’ hand and throws open an interface. Connor receives no answering data, just a surge of molten desire through his veins. His system activates his lubrication protocol, but in doing that, Connor is somehow even more sensitive.

Markus shifts above him, likely trying to figure out why Connor’s system is overwhelmed, and brushes his thigh against his crotch. Connor jolts, arching his back off the bed, lifting his hips to seek out the source of the pressure, whimpering when Markus presses a firm hand to his hip and pushes him back down on the bed.

Connor feels something wiggling about in his mind, and it seems to be reducing his sensitivity. Some strange, primal part of his system immediately tries kicking it out, also trying to close the interface. Connor gets his hand away from Markus, only to have the man grip his wrist with even more strength and open the interface again. As the sensitivity goes down, so too does the primal urge.

Connor is left shaking, near enough to climax to throw his higher function into disarray. He stares up at Markus’ beautiful heterochromatic eyes, “What…?”

“Your sensitivity was turned too high. Did you not play with the update when you got home?” he sounds teasing

Connor blushes, “I… no? I’m sorry.”

A series of emotions pass over Markus’ face, too fast for Connor to recognize, but the expression that sticks is that of pure want, “Nothing to be sorry for. Just means I get to witness your raw reactions.”

Markus stands fully, looking down at Connor as he starts stripping his own shirt, and murmurs lowly, “Oh this’ll be fun.”

Connor watches as Markus slowly reveals more. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he watches Markus' eyes track the movement. The knowledge of his own power over the man gives him a surge of pride. 

He decides he's tired of waiting. Connor sits up, hooking his fingers in Markus' belt loops and holding him in place. 

"May I try something?"

"Please…" Markus' voice is barely above a growl, only deepening as Connor deftly undoes his jeans, sinking to his knees and pushing them off. Now entirely naked, Connor lets his eyes roam. He works to memorize every freckle, every curve of muscle and synthetic tissue, the rise and fall of the masterpiece that is his husband. 

Then, Connor lets himself look at Markus' cock. Possibly his intimacy protocol, but the sight makes Connor's mouth water. Of course, it's perfect. A good length without being intimidating, and flawless curvature.

Connor activates the program he'd inherited from the Traci models and lowers his head, licking a slow wet stripe up the underside of Markus' cock, then swallowing him. He hears Markus let out a guttural moan, so he holds him in his mouth, just enjoying the weight and taste of him, swirling his tongue experimentally around the head. Markus curls his fingers in Connor's hair and tugs, pulling a whimper from him.

They both pause, then Connor looks up to make eye contact before pulling Markus to the back of his throat and swallowing. Markus' grip in his hair tightens and Connor's eyes flutter. The more Markus tugs on his hair, the more Connor's attention gets pulled to his own arousal.

Even the sight of Markus above him was enough to stir interest, but now, with the man's cock in his throat and fist in his hair, his own dick strains against his jeans.

Connor loses himself in the ebb and flow. Focusing on the feel of Markus in his throat. He makes a sound of surprise when Markus pulls him off, voice rough,

"Get back on the bed, Con. Gonna make you feel good too."

He scrambles to comply, spreading his legs shamelessly for Markus to stand between. But he doesn't. Instead, Markus picks at Connor's clothes, working unbearably slowly. 

When Connor tries to aid the removal, Markus grabs his wrists, "No, darling. Let me do this."

Connor obeys. It isn't a command, so much, but his cock twitches at the hint of one. He closes his eyes and feels the slow drag of his shirt being pulled off, the searing heat of Markus' hands trailing over his arms and torso, gently rubbing the bud of his nipple,

"Ahh~" Connor's body moves of its own volition, pushing his chest further into Markus' hands. He squirms as the other man continues his teasing, 

"And just think, we brought your sensitivity down…" 

Markus doesn’t let him respond, immediately returning to sucking and biting a path down his chest. His deft hands remove the rest of Connor’s clothing and he wraps a hand loosely around the detective’s cock.

[odderancyart]

On a Never Resting Sea

Chapter III: The Cabin

First Last Next

AO3

Summary: Razz, the heir of the Beobyrian Empire, is on his way home from a diplomatic mission as his ship gets attacked by pirates. Suddenly he finds himself taken as hostage, and it doesn’t seem like the pirates are planning to exchange him for a ransom anytime soon. How annoying.

Warnings:  violence, death, blood, hostage holding, kidnapping

The dinner room was loud and jolly. Laughter echoed between the wooden walls as the crew of Sarynthia ate breakfast. Scraping the last of his eggs – their last eggs – off his plate Red grinned widely at Grillby, the ship cook, who was sitting next to him.

“great as always, grillbz,” he said, chewing loudly. He downed half of his mug with tea as he swallowed. “tho’ it could’ve been even better with some more salt.”

The fire elemental stared at him as his purple flames flickered. Despite hardly having a face, he looked unimpressed, and Red’s grin grew wider.

“jus’ some constructive critique, buddy.”

For that, he received a slap on his head, and he let out an “ow”. The human who sat on his other side chuckled.

“STOP ANNOYING GRILLBY, BROTHER,” his brother called from the opposite side of the table. Fell sounded irritated, but there was an obvious edge of amusement in his voice. Turning to him, Red scratched the back of his head as he smiled at the other.

“aw, boss,” he whined jokingly, picking up his plate to lick it off. None of the rare egg and bacon would be left behind. “dontcha think my yolks are egg-ceptional?”

“I CERTAINLY DO NOT. THEY ARE TRULY AWFUL.”

Pouting, he waved to one of the cabin kids to come take his plate. The kid, a wyvern not yet old enough for wings and therefore armless, did so by having  Red putting it on a plate he held in his mouth. The crew members sitting close roared in laughter as they spoke. The skeleton brothers’ conversations were a favourite every day. Even those days they weren’t that special, like today.

“don’ egg-saggregate, bro,” Red told the taller, and stood up. “welp. time fer work, i guess.”

“Right!” Sigrid, the Sailing Master and Sarynthia’s third highest officer, said. She downed the last of her drink before standing. “Red, I need you to take a look at the cannons on larboard side.”

“ugh,” he replied, smirking as he walked toward the door. “why y’all have got ta give me so much t’ do i’ll never know.” He sent his superior a lazy salute. “aye, aye, ma’am. in a soulbeat.”

The light that came through the window wasn’t enough. Therefore, there were a couple lit oil lamps on the working desk even in the middle of the day. This job required great amounts of care or the results could be disastrous. Red moved the magnifying glass even closer to the gun he was putting together, as he used a tweezer to put the last parts into place. A normal gun wasn’t hard to make. Any idiot could and it’d work relatively well. The reason he made the crew’s firearms was that his was simply much better. Which also meant they were more dangerous if they went wrong. He’d almost blown his arm off once.

Focusing intently, he put the last piece in place before snapping the gun closed with a triumphant smile on his face. Red put it down on the desk before stretching. After sitting hunched for hours he was quite stiff. Yawning, he stood up and blew out the lamps before leaving his working cabin.

The fresh wind hit his face hard, and he breathed in the smell of salt. Red’s smile softened as he locked the cabin door behind him. The ocean was lovely, and so much better than the city backstreets they grew up on. Big, wild and free. Blinking, he shook himself quickly. No such sentimental thoughts in his head, thank you very much. He threw a glance at Zanã, blinking against the bright light. According to the position, it was afternoon already.

“Hey, Red,” a voice yelled from the mainmast. Looking up, he saw Fuku, Grillby’s younger sister, hanging upside down in one of the top sail yards. He smirked, and waved back at her. “Watch me!”

“careful, pal.” He chuckled as she frowned. If there was one thing the blue elemental disliked, it was being told to be careful. “grillby would skin me alive if somethin’ happened to ya when i was ‘ere.”

Sticking out her tongue, she let go of the yard. Red gaped in horror as she fell toward the deck, faster and faster. His soul pounded violently. Fuku’s flames flickered in the wind. His hand flew out of his pocket to grab her soul, but before he had the chance, she passed the lower sail yard. Her arms flew out, and she grabbed it. After swinging around a couple turns, she simply sat on it. Still gaping, Red stared at her as she grinned at him.

“Awesome, right?” she called out. There were a few beats of silence before Red blinked, and began to chuckle. Soon he was clutching his ribs in laughter.

“yeah, ya lil’ brat,” he agreed. “tha’ was incredible, and ya scared me shitless.”

Fuku grinned widely at him. It looked triumphant – the little terror loved to do this. Shaking his head and still chuckling, Red made his way toward the kitchens. He had a princess to feed.

When Razz had woken up that morning, he had been very surprised to find himself curled into a ball, still dressed and covered by a plaid. Slightly disgusted with himself too, for losing control like that. Then even more as he realized he had nowhere to wash himself off in the cabin. His body felt slow and his mind was hazy after crying himself asleep the night before. Nevertheless, he had forced himself out of bed. After changing clothes, because there was no way he’d wear the same thing two days in a row, especially not after sleeping in it, he began to look through his chests again. There was still a couple of his things he hadn’t checked on.

While he did so, he hummed a familiar melody. It had always calmed him down, ever since he was a babybones and his parents sang it for him. As he reached down into the chest, to the very bottom, his soul beat nervously. He hadn’t thought about it yesterday, somehow, with all the stir and trauma, but now Razz couldn’t help but worry it wouldn’t be there. There was no reason for the pirates to take it: It didn’t look expensive and they wouldn’t know how much it was worth, yet…

He sighed in relief as he grabbed the bundle of fabrics. Lifting it up and carefully starting to unwrap it Razz hummed louder. He smiled as the lacked, carved wood appeared beneath the fabric. His soul felt a little lighter as he opened it, and the very same melody began to play. He studied the intricate patterns on the ancient music box, tracing them with a phalange. The wood was steady but soft. As the melody soothed him, Razz felt his shoulders sink. Breathing suddenly seemed easier. He put it on the desk without closing it.

His smile broadened as he picked up the two objects which had been lying on the bottom of the chest without documents. Quickly unpacking them, Razz grinned. Thank fuck. Perhaps he wouldn’t be that bored. He pulled slightly on the violin’s strings. Seemed like the pirates hadn’t been on them. Neither did his flute seem harmed in any way.

Later that day, Razz was standing in the middle of the cabin and playing the violin. As music flowed from his fingers, he frowned in concentration. The strings dug into his phalanges as he pressed. The bow flew over them. Without notes, he had to play from memory, and this was a very quick, complicated piece. The melody flowed through the room. Razz’s soul beat quickly. Adrenaline was rushing through his bones as the melody sped up. Some sweat was running down his brow and he held his breath as he did the final sweep with the bow. And… stop. With a twist of his wrist, the bow lifted from the strings. His breathing was strained, but he grinned.

A clapping noise was heard, and Razz startled. He twisted his head to see Red standing in the door opening, clapping loudly. The pirate was smiling.

“well done!” Red said, continuing with his applause. “’t was beautiful, princess. yer real good.”

Razz stared at him in shock. How hadn’t he noticed him coming in? He hadn’t even heard the clattering of the keyhole. As Red commented on his music, though, he grinned and nodded.

“I WOULD CERTAINLY HOPE SO,” he replied, carefully putting down the violin on the bed. If there was one thing he rarely could resist it was a genuine compliment. “I BEGAN TAKING LESSONS AT FOUR AFTER ALL. BUT THANK YOU.”

The other blinked, surprised. If Razz was being honest, he looked slightly aghast even.

“four?!” he exclaimed. “what? tha’s… who’d make a four-year-old play violin?”

“I CAN ALSO PLAY THE PIANO AND THE FLUTE. AND FOUR IS NOT THAT YOUNG. MY EDUCATION STARTED WHEN I WAS TWO.”

Red’s eye sockets grew wide as he listened, and Razz couldn’t help but smirk. The other was almost gaping.

“well,” Red eventually said. “suddenly bein’ royal doesn’t sound all tha’ great. no offence.”

Razz snorted and shook his head. He smirked at the other, tilting his head upwards to stare smugly into Red’s sockets.

“PFA. I’M NOT SURPRISED. FEW ARE MAGNIFICENT ENOUGH TO HANDLE MY LIFE.”

The following days, Razz reluctantly admitted to himself that he was looking forward to Red’s visits. Being alone in the cabin was making him slightly stir-crazy. There wasn’t much to do, and Red wasn’t quite as awful as he had thought. At the very least, he was quick with the compliments, and they somehow didn’t feel quite as calculating as most of the ones he got at court. More genuine. Like the pirate truly was impressed with his skills.

Plus, whenever Red left, he got this empty, heavy feeling in his stomach. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. It was like the room closed in on him. Multiple times Razz caught himself looking for guards and servants, only to remember where he was. It was… strange. To be alone. He couldn’t remember ever being it for more than an hour or two. There were always castle staff members or courtiers around. Always.

The lock rattled again, and his soul skipped a beat. Then it sank once he realized it wasn’t Red, because Red always knocked. Therefore, it had to be someone else from the crew. Which meant that he’d most likely receive the same blatant disrespect as the last time he’d met crewmembers.

With a sigh Razz put down his book and stared blankly at the door as it opened. As soon as a body showed up, his expression changed to an indifferent yet wry mask. He had long ago perfected the art of displaying exactly what he wanted on his face and nothing more.

“YES?” he asked before they could utter a word. The human – a male this time – grinned at him and held up a tray.

“Red’s busy, Yer Highness” he said, stepping inside. “I’ve got yer dinner.”

While gesturing toward the desk, where he ate all his meals, Razz clenched his other fist. Preparing for the inevitable mocking.

“THANK YOU,” he forced out as the human put it down. “WHO ARE YOU? AND WHERE IS RED?”

“The name’s Septimus Benoit, Yer Highness,” the man said cheerfully. He saluted playfully. “Boatswain and fourth in command on this fine ship. Red’s sifting the blackpowder and won’t be finished yet for a couple hours, poor guy. He hates this part o’ his job but it needs to be done.”

“THAT SOUNDS AWFUL.”

“It is,” Septimus agreed with a smile. “I’m glad I don’t have to do it. Well, I too have duties, Yer Highness. Enjoy your meal.”

“NOT VERY LIKELY IF IT IS LIKE THE OTHERS,” Razz muttered, but nodded. He had been here a week and was already infinitely tired of the ship’s cuisine. The pirate shrugged, and headed toward the door.

“’T was nice meeting ya, Yer Highness,” he said before closing the door behind. “Have a good afternoon.”

And Razz was alone again. His soul sank as he realized this. Not yet hungry, he hummed the old melody as he went to unpack his flute. He really needed something to do.

His bones felt itchy, he smelled and he could just feel the dirt crawl down his spine. Razz hadn’t washed or bathed for almost two weeks and it was driving him mad. It was so disgusting, not even half a bottle of perfume could make it feel better by this stage.

The cabin was also getting messy. There was dust and mud on the floor and the desk was a mess. He couldn’t fucking stand it. Why was it so untidy? His rooms in the castle had never been in this bad condition.

While Razz was spraying perfume all of the room, grateful for the small relief, it knocked on his door. After he’d called “COME IN” Red appeared, only to freeze and throw his hands for his nose. Razz frowned at him.

“wha’… what th’ hell? are ya tryin’ to poison me?” Red wheezed, waving one of his hands before his noose. Huffing, Razz put the perfume bottle down on a chest.

“NO. I AM TRYING TO MAKE IT SMELL DECENT. THIS CABIN IS REVOLTING.”

“well, tha’ might be ‘cause ya haven’t cleaned it, princess,” Red pointed out. Razz blinked at him. Wiping his hands of on his trousers, since there was no towels here, he kept staring at the other with narrowed sockest. “ya… know wha’ cleanin’ is, right?”

Huffing, Razz wrinkled his nose.

“OF COURSE I DO. IT’S SOMETHING THE SERVANTS DO WHEN NO ONE OF IMPORTANCE IS IN THE ROOM,” he replied, feeling slightly offended. The feeling grew as Red snorted, and a smirk took place on his face as he continued to fan his face.

“stars, highness. no offence, but ya wouldn’ survive a week on yer own. i’ll send a kid down t’ clean yer cabin.”

“I WANT TO BATHE,” Razz exclaimed. “I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS FILTHY IN MY LIFE. I HATE IT.”

“alright, princess,” Red nodded. “i’ll see what i can do fer ya.”

Razz had to fight himself to keep a grateful smile of his face. He nodded shortly, and Red grinned in reply.

For the first time since his kidnapping, Razz could leave his cabin. Only a short walk, a couple cabins away to a bathroom where some cabin kids had filled a bathtub with sea water. He saw nothing but wooden walls and doors. Despite that, and that he didn’t meet anyone but a rabbit kid, it felt absolutely wonderful to see something else but the same small cabin. The bath was cold. He didn’t have any of his soaps as they’d been in the maids’ bag. The salt stuck on his bones. Razz didn’t care. It felt lovely to get relatively clean again.

As he against his will returned to his cabin he could breathe a sigh of relief when he entered. The rabbit kid from earlier was just about to fold a couple of his dresses and shirts. They nodded slightly as he entered. It was the closest thing to a bow Razz had received on this ship.

Swept into his silk bathrobe he waited until they left. Grinning, he put on one of his cosiest dresses as soon as he was alone. He hadn’t wanted to dirty it. Sighing happily, he lied down on the bed and gazed out the window.

Huh. Didn’t the sky look very dark? Was it going to rain? The waves were hitting his window, leaving salt trails on it. Above him the footsteps were growing louder, Razz realized. Sounded like people were running. He frowned in worry. In the same moment, the keyhole rattled again and the door was thrown open. Red stopped in the doorway. The pirate’s sockets were wide, and he looked stressed.

“ya might wanna buckle up with some rope or somethin’ princess,” he said. His voice was strained and he kept glancing out the window. “there’s a storm comin’. and ‘t’s big.”

[donghyxns]

Hunger Games! au | Park Woojin (3)

this is so so so long!!!!!!! beware of that lol

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

“then we talked about all the ways i could brutally murder you in order to get more sponsors”

that knocked the breath out of you

just a few hours ago he was kissing you, giving you the most protective glances and now he is revealing that he was just doing that to gain trust?

fuck

it actually worked tho

“park woojin, who do you think you ar-”

he cuts you off with a pat on the head, “i will see you tomorrow in training. sleep well.” he gives you a small peck on your cheek

what thE FRICK

you were confused

all you knew was that you fell hopelessly in love with park woojin in a short amount of time and all he wants to do is to murder you

the hunger games is royally fucked

the next day in the training arena was incredibly scary

chungha looked like she was literally going to murder you (which she was in a couple of days)

every time you looked in her general direction, she threw a knife and it always stuck in the left eye

one moment she threw the knife and looked directly at you

“this is going to be you in a couple of days and lover boy won’t be able to save you”

THAT SENT LITERAL SHIVERS DOWN YOUR SPINE

you looked over at woojin who just chuckled evilly

it was like they were working together???

you felt so alone and scared while practicing how to differ between poisonous berries and edible ones

“that berry is poisonous, you would be dead in a minute”

the somewhat deep, raspy voice from behind you shocked you

-

“what’s it called?” you ask the attractive boy

“night berry” he smiles up at you

jesus why are all the boys around you suddenly hot??

“you are ____ from district 11 right?”

“yeah” you nod your head looking up at him

“my name is hwang minhyun, i’m from district 4″ he gives you the cutest smile and wowza you felt yourself melt

he leans in closer with a mischevious smile gracing his lips

“dont look now, but your little lover boy looks to be mad at this interaction” minhyun leans back and smiles at you

he mouths ‘look now’ after a couple a second and when you do you feel your heart swell

woojin had narrowed his eyes over at the two of you and his neck was beginning to turn red

you look back at minhyun and the two of you share a good hearty laugh

you havent laughed since a day before the reaping

you and daehwi were hanging out and he slipped on the wooden floor in his house

causing him to fall and knock over this expensive vase (3 whole dollars,,, it was a lot in your district okay...)

the look of pure terror and shock on his face made you double over in laughter as he hurriedly swept it up

“thank you, minhyun” you smile at him and he gives you a confused look

“for what?”

you sigh, grabbing the rope next to you, “i haven’t laughed like that since the day before the reaping”

minhyun suddenly clapped his hand, startling you

“thats right! you volunteered for the daehwi kid, right?”

you nod your head

minhyun grabs your wrist, “that was a very brave thing to do. if that was me in that situation i wouldnt be able to do it.”

before you could respond the bell rang signalling everybody it was 7:00 PM and that you needed to go back to your pent houses

the elevator ride up with woojin was extremely awkward, to say the least

he finally broke the awkward silence

“why are you talking to minhyun?”

you shake your head, “ why do you suddenly care all of a sudden?”

woojin scoffs, arms crossing, “minhyun will bring you nothing but harm! he is the most wanted tribute other than you! you will die by just hanging near him”

you turn towards him, scowl present on your face, “woojin, i’m going to die no matter what. why can’t i have a friend in this fucking game before i die?”

woojin slams his hand against the elevator wall, “god damn it, am i not your friend?”

you look at him with an incredulous look, “friend? woojin if you don’t recall, last night you told me you were acting sweet so you could gain my trust and then murder me. i don’t classify that as a friend”

woojin grabs your shoulders, “seeing you with minhyun made me realize how much i dont want to kill you”

weird wording

but i mean it is the hunger games

“what do you mean by that?” you pushed away your confused feelings about the wording

woojin licks his lips, “i have a crush on you”

crush???

are we in middle school??????

apparently, BECAUSE YOUR HEART IS RACING

you decide to challenge your feelings though, “how do i know you arent just lying?”

woojin smiles

your heart stops for a second you sweAR

“if i didn’t would i have cut off my ties with chungha and put a huge target on my back?”

shit

you did realize woojin and chungha did talk at the end of class and she looked royally pissed off at him

the elevator doors dinging open snapped the two of you out of your little trance

you talked about this briefly over dinner and you concluded that you were going to trust woojin again

but you were also going to stay on high alert to make sure you didnt get played

the next two days of training went by fairly smooth

you got closer to minhyun despite woojins protests and you and woojin got a little more “intimate”

it was a little weird

the two of you would sleep in the same bed and cuddle for hours on end until you were called to breakfast

before getting up you would share a quick peck on the lips

but then after that, you two were complete strangers

the both of you would act like you didnt know each other

maybe woojin was ashamed? maybe this was all part of his plan? who knows

all you knew was that you were happy when the two of you spent time

but that was cut soon

it was the day of the hunger games

24 people go in and only 1 person is victorious

jesus that scared you

you and woojin were cuddling on the rooftop, looking up at the stars

he was playing with your soft hand

his breathing was steady and it calmed you down

“woojin, i’ll be dead in 4 days.... you know this right?” you look up at him and he shakes his head

“no, i won’t let you die. i will protect you until the very end”

“what if it is just the two of us? would you kill me then?” he lets out a troubled sigh

“of course not”

lie

“i would kill myself for you”

lie

“my life isnt even worth living anymore”

lie

all of those were lies spewing out of woojins mouth and you knew that very well

“woojin what are we?” you ask one last question

woojin kisses the back of your hand, “we are boyfriend and girlfriend”

the morning came too soon

you felt the knot in your stomach again and you felt like you could barely breathe

your whole body was shaking and sweating

you couldnt calm your nerves

you and woojin were separated as soon as the sun came up for “personal reasons”

you were sat in a room as you waited for the countdown to start

your knee was bobbing up and down as you watched the tv screen in front of you

one of the tips was: “don’t step off the platform before the countdown as it will blow you up”

that really settled you

a deep voice started to countdown “30...29...28...27...26″

you stood up while taking a deep breath

the tube in the room opened up and you took that as an incentive to go ahead and step in it

the tube closed soon after you got in, sensing your body weight

you try to even out your breathing but your body doesnt respond

you are still shaking when the platform shoots up

suddenly you are in the middle of an open field, cornucopia full of goodies in the middle

you look around and spot minhyun

he gives you a thumbs up and a small smile

he mouths, ‘i will get us some bags, you need to run!’

you nod, this calming your nerves slightly

your gaze shifts over to woojin and he looks not in the least bit scared

it throws you back to the first day the two of you met and he said, “i’m ready to die. that’s why i looked so relieved during the reaping”

woojin meets your gaze and smiles a cute smile

you feel good about this whole situation when you realize you have both minhyun and woojin on your side

you look directly beside you and you see chungha looking at you

she smirks when she meets your gaze, motioning that she was going to strangle you as soon as the canon went off

“10...9...8...7...6...5″

your ears started ringing and your eyes glossed over

you were panicking suddenly

the feelings of good left your body when you realized, well shit, i really am going to die

you heard the cannon go off and your legs automatically moved to the forest behind you

before you got too far, someone tackled you with a screech

they flipped you over and you were met with the one and only kim chungha

her thin hands wrapped around your throat cutting off the oxygen

“this is what you get for stealing woojin away from me, you little bitch!” her other hand raised up and she slapped you hard

your hands reached up and scratched at her

her hands loosened up slightly giving you the chance to breathe and scream out

“minhyun!!! minhyun!!!!!!” you scream out, fear filling your system

her hands grasped tightly around your throat once more and your vision started to turn white

you saw daehwi’s smiling face and you heard your mom’s laughter

your body started to relax once you accepted the fact that you were dead

honestly,,, it wasnt that bad

you felt so relaxed and your mind was wandering to all the good things that happened in your life

you were about to close your eyes but suddenly the pressure on your neck loosened up

someone was grabbing at your body, throwing you over their shoulder

“_______?!? are you okay?! i will protect you no matter what!”

“t-thank you...” you breathe out, not knowing who the person was and you knocked out right after that

you feel wet when you first open your eyes

there was a slight dripping sound echoing throughout the area you were at

you try to sit up but you groan in pain when you try

a hand pushes you back down softly, “dont strain yourself”

“m-minhyun?” you ask

you hear a deep chuckle and with that, you can confirm that it was indeed minhyun

woojin had a high pitched laugh

oh shit

was woojin okay?

“how long was i knocked out for? is woojin okay? are you okay?”

minhyun laughs once again, “woah, woah slow down there... you were knocked out for 2 days, we only have 2 more days to kill 12 tributes. woojin is fine but so is chungha, so we need to watch out for them. i’m perfectly fine. the bags i picked up had good fishing equipment, ointment, ropes, and some packaged berries. i also found 2 knives. we are in good shape.”

you breathe out a sigh of relief

“w-wait.... why do we have to look out for woojin and chungha?”

minhyun lets out a sigh that bounces off the walls of the cave

“they are working together to find us and kill us”

(final part will be out tomorrow)

[agentwashingtrash]

I do not know if you keep accepting prompts, but if you do, what about Tucker taking care of Wash, because the fandom always needs more about your writing

[I STARTED WRITING THE FILL FOR THIS THE DAY I GOT THIS PROMPT. IT TOOK ME TIL TWO DAYS AGO TO GET IT FINISHED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS. I’M SORRY I’M A FAILBOAT AT TURNING STUFF OUT. I HOPE YOU ENJOY.

also i know i said my next prompt fill was gonna be porn. i lied. THE NEXT ONE DEFS IS THO AND I AM ACTIVELY WORKING ON IT SO YAY!!!]

wash is standing in the kitchen at three am with a gun in his hand and tucker thinks he’s going to puke.

[rewind]

tucker comes awake with a sharp inhale, disorientated, and a vague sense of agitation pulling low in his stomach. the base is quiet around him and he lies in the dark waiting for his heartbeat to settle. the sheets are cool against his skin and he can hear the faint patter of rain against the roof, but his brain has decided on being awake, so he heaves out a sigh and rolls onto his back.

“tucker.”

he jerks away from the hulking shape looming over him so hard he smacks his head against the wall. cursing, he rubs the back of his head and glares hard at the shadow. “jesus fucking christ caboose are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

caboose looks suitably chastised, but only for a moment. “something is wrong with agent washingtub.”

“something—what?” he squints at his hand  distractedly. “i better not be bleeding.”

“i think he is having a nightmare.”

that catches his attention. “shit—are you sure? i didn’t hear anything.” but he’s already reaching for a clean(?) pair of pants. “dude you didn’t try to wake him up did you? you know he doesn’t want us anywhere—”

but caboose is shaking his head. “he is not in his bed.”

tucker pauses. “what?”

“he is in the kitchen.”

“he’s in—” tucker drags a hand down his face. “dude he can’t be having a nightmare if he’s not sleeping.”

“no, but tucker! i think something is wrong,” he says, twisting his fingers anxiously.

tucker sighs, “caboose…”

“i think he might be broken,” caboose says quietly, as if saying it too loudly might make it true.

the words slam into tucker, twisting something in his chest. “he’s not broken,” he snaps, standing and herding his teammate towards the door. “show me where he is.”

[fast-forward]

“wash?” he says quietly, edging into the kitchen.

the man doesn’t react, standing stock-still in the dim light, head tilted down and away. tucker can barely tell if he’s breathing. he’s not wearing his armour, clad only in his undersuit, but that’s not what’s making bile rise in the back of tucker’s throat.

it’s the gun gripped firmly in his hand. finger away from the trigger. safety off.

caboose makes a low whining noise from the hall and wash’s head swings towards them.

“caboose go back to sleep,” tucker orders lowly. “i got this.”

“will agent washingtub be alright tucker?”

he throws a grin over his shoulder and hopes caboose can’t tell how strained it is. “yeah dude i got this. i’m practically a freelancer whisperer.”

“that is good. wash needs more quiet things i think,” caboose says solemnly—like he’s not punching a hole in tucker’s stomach—before his hulking shadow disappears back towards his room.

tucker breathes out slowly, swivelling back around to stare at his teammate. “what is even going on in your head right now dude?” he mutters, not expecting an answer.

wash doesn’t move. his breathing is so slow and steady tucker wonders if he's—well, nightmare-walking is probably the more accurate description. his head tracks tucker as he slowly steps in a wide circuit around him, but his eyes are always a few steps behind.

his grip on the gun never falters.

[pause]

tucker doesn’t even know what the deal with wash is.

bringing home the freelancer was like adopting an abused pit bull. you expect the teeth and the mistrust, but then you get the shaking and screaming whimpering and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with this mess that’s suddenly ended up in your lap.

and even though you had nothing to do with it, you still feel guilty and oddly responsible and somehow or other you decide you’re going to fix this broken thing come hell or high water.

tucker’s never said any of this out loud because the last thing he needs is wash hearing him compare him to a dog but either way the point is—

[play]

“you always have to be so dramatic about everything,” tucker says quietly, “it can’t ever be easy with you, can it?”

wash doesn’t blink, even as tucker moves away from the door and places himself in front of the window. its a strategic move on his part. wash has always been tetchy about windows, and tucker is hoping that the combination of an empty exit point and a covered weak spot will ease something in wash’s subconscious.

“whoever said that blondes have all the fun is full of shit,” tucker gripes, tone as casual as he doesn’t feel. “i’ve never had a blonde give me more trouble and i’m not even getting into your pants after all this. definitely seems unfair.”

tucker has no idea what’s going on in wash’s head. there’s not a single shift in his stance, and tucker doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or if he should be running for cover. swallowing hard, and hoping he’s not about to get himself killed, he slowly steps towards the freelancer, every movement deliberate and open.

“we can probably all head back to bed now y’know. you’ve done your badass freelancer shtick. no one’s here but us, dude. we’re all okay.”

wash still isn’t looking directly at him, but his eyes are tracking his feet so at least tucker won’t accidentally startle a fugue’d(?) freelancer. he makes sure to keep the window at his back and his hands at his sides, palms open and up.

“you can go back to sleep wash,” tucker murmurs, “i know how tired you must be.”

he’s in arm’s reach now, and tucker can feel his heart trying to rip it’s way out of his chest. training aside wash has never deliberately hurt him, but he knows how easy it would be for wash to… the last thing tucker wants is for wash to come out of this with blood on his hands. he forgets sometimes, when they’re all in their armour, just how much bigger wash is than him. he’s a full head taller, and while he might look lean, this close tucker can see how broad his shoulders are, the strength in his arms. even if he didn’t have the gun wash has the full advantage here and there are just so many reasons tucker cannot fuck this up.

“what do you say, man?” ever so slowly he reaches out, fingers brushing against wash’s elbow. “do you want to go back to sleep?”

wash doesn’t react and tucker swallows hard, curling his hand gently around his arm. even through the undersuit wash still feels cool and something in his chest twists, wondering how long he was standing here before caboose found him. his gaze flicks down to the gun in wash’s hand—safety still off. finger still away from the trigger—then back up, trying to catch wash’s eye.

his hand slides down. “we’ll go back to sleep wash, okay? but you need to give me the gun first. not very comfy to sleep with one of those. trust me, i’ve tried.”

he feels skin under his palm, the juts of wash’s wrist. his fingers brush against cool metal. wash’s head slowly tilts.

“give me the gun, wash,” he whispers.

tucker’s up against the far wall before he can blink, shoved, not violently, wash’s body caging him in. his breath escapes him in a quiet gasp, and he lets his body go limp. there’s a hand against his collarbone, thumb tucked into the hollow of his throat, and without thinking too hard about how fucking dumb it probably is, tucker tips his head back, exposing his neck and flicking his gaze down.

there’s a long moment, quiet, and tucker waits. but when wash does nothing more than loom, he risks a glance up. the freelancer’s gaze is still blank, half-lidded, fixed somewhere past tucker’s ear; breathing still as slow and methodical as it has been this whole time, but this close tucker can see how tight his jaw is clenched. can feel that while the hand against him is lax, there’s a minute tremor wracking his frame.

“wash,” he says quietly, voice wavering, “it’s okay dude, it’s just me. you can relax now.”

the thumb at his throat twitches, and rather than feel threatened tucker feels his shoulders slump. he reaches up, curling a hand around wash’s wrist, thumb rubbing soothingly over the rapid pulse he finds there.

“you’re so tired man, i know you are,” he reaches out with his other hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles against wash’s forearm. “but you’ve done good. we’re okay wash, caboose is okay. it’s time for you to go back to sleep.”

he clasps wash’s arm, repeating the same thing he did earlier, slowly dropping his hand down until he feels the cool press of metal against his palm. wash is trembling from head to toe now, and tucker feels a swell of relief when his eyes finally slip closed. their hands have been the only point of contact until this point, yet now wash lets his body sag forward, resting his forehead next to tucker’s against the wall.

tucker turns, pressing his forehead to wash’s temple, hand sliding down to curve around the gun. “can you let go now? i’ve got you wash, i promise.”

wash makes a noise low in the back of his throat, his first of the night, and it’s quiet and weak and crushes something deep within him. tucker manages a shaky breath, tightening his grasp around wash’s other wrist, wanting him to feel grounded and reassured—not knowing if he is. he pulls a little, encouraging wash to sink further into him, and humming encouragingly when he does.

tucker knows things are going to change after this. even if wash doesn’t fully remember tonight, tucker won’t be able to forget how wash felt shaking against him. the knowledge that even as broken and twisted as wash is, there is a deep implicit trust here that knocks the breath out of tucker if he thinks about it too hard. so he doesn’t. instead he noses at the bolt of wash’s jaw, cradling the beat of his heart in his palms.

“you’re safe wash,” he murmurs. “let go of the gun.”

slowly, ever so slowly, finger by finger, wash lets go of the gun.

[fast-forward]

wash wakes, warm and gentle, the sun high in the sky. tucker lying next to him. he isn’t as surprised by this as he should be, he thinks. they’re curved towards each other, parenthesis in the sheets. one of wash’s arms is lying between them and tucker has a hand curled around his wrist, thumb sweeping over his pulse, and in turn wash’s other hand is gently grasping tucker’s wrist—a tangle of reassurance.

tucker’s awake, eyes half-lidded and fixed on the knot of contrasting skin. wash spends a long moment watching him watch their hands, no desire to rise and begin the day despite knowing he should’ve been up hours ago.

finally tucker’s gaze flicks up, doesn’t seem surprised to see wash watching him. “hey.”

“hey,” wash replies, voice low and rough. “what time is it?”

“late.” tucker’s mouth quirks up into a grin. “i’m surprised you haven’t already thrown yourself out of bed to start running laps.”

wash ignores that bit. “you should’ve woken me up.”

“you needed the sleep,” tucker says with a shrug, “plus if the reds and their shit didn’t wake you up then i definitely wasn’t going to.”

he pauses, and now that he’s listening for it he can hear rhythmic clangs of metal on metal and the usual sounds of grif and simmons having a domestic. “what are they doing?”

tucker snorts. “fuck knows. what are they ever doing? they’ve been at it all morning so i’m sure we’ll hear all about it when caboose gets back.”

it occurs to wash that the base has been quieter than usual, no sounds of caboose clamouring around in the kitchen followed by ominous burning smells.

“besides,” tucker continues, eyes dipping to where their hands are resting, “one day off won’t kill you. all work and no play, yada yada yada.”

he falls silent, and wash finds his own gaze flicking down to watch tucker’s thumb trace shapes over the ghostly blue of his veins. it’s soothing, and wash finds himself lulled into a haze of half-sleep, listening to tucker’s breathing and absently realizing they’re in sync.

an indeterminable time later, tucker speaks up quietly. “aren’t you going to ask me?”

“hm?”

“what i’m doing here?”

wash cracks an eye open. “i had wondered. i’d just assumed i was finally wooed by the prowess of your pickup lines.”

tucker laughs, surprised, and wash feels himself grin in response. “i mean you wouldn’t be the first, but no. i…” he trails off, smile sloping downwards. “do you remember last night?”

“last night?” wash’s brow furrows. he remembers… he remembers being afraid. ghosts in the dark ghosts in his head. forgetting his own name and the overwhelming urge to protect his back because no one else will.

remembers tucker?

“i… you were there. i was having a nightmare? or—what happened?”

tucker lets out a long breath. “fuck if i know dude. sleep-walking maybe? caboose found you in the kitchen at like three in the morning.”

wash feels his pulse pick up. “he’s okay right? i didn’t—“

“no, no,” tucker interrupts gently. “he’s fine. i don’t even think you really knew he was there.”

he swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry. “and what about you? tucker if i—did i hurt you?”

tucker watches him, expression inscrutable and just when wash thinks he might be sick tucker shakes his head. “no. you didn’t hurt me.”

“you’re sure?” he rasps.

an odd expression flits across tucker’s face, gone too quick for wash to try and analyze it, but his lips curl upwards. “positive. you won’t hurt me wash.”

wash doesn’t know what to say to that. doesn’t know why his pulse is suddenly racing for an entirely different reason. so he does what he does best and ignores it, forces it down and awkwardly clears his throat. “so what happened than?”

tucker shrugs again. “i talked you down. convinced you not to stand and play honour guard til the sun came up. took you to bed—bow chicka bow wow.” he waggles his eyebrows when wash snorts. “i know you’re weird about us being around you when you’re sleeping but you—“ his eyes flick down to where wash’s hand is curled around his wrist, “I didn’t think you should be alone.”

he can feel the heat blooming across his cheeks, can probably figure out what tucker’s leaving out. knows that he’s pathetically starved for touch, skin-hungry in a way that he’d never admit to if you held a gun to his head. not that it matters when it sounds like he’s probably been attached to tucker all night.

“well,” he rasps, coughs, tries again, “you didn’t—i mean… thank you, tucker. it—it really means a lot.”

tucker grins, squeezes his wrist reassuringly. “no problem, dude. not the biggest hardship in the world to snuggle with a hot blonde all night.”

he winks, laughs when wash’s cheeks darken, is still laughing when they hear caboose clatter into the base, yelling something about croissants and rocket launchers. he knows he should let go of tucker now, make a move to leave, but he’s comfortable here, soothed by the continual sweep of tucker’s fingers against his skin. his limbs feel weightless against the mattress, the exhaustion that he wears like a cloak washed away in the pre-dawn hours.

he realizes his eyes are slipping closed again when tucker speaks up quietly. “i know that we’re not what you’re used to—not like your old team. but,” wash feels him shift under the sheets, “you’re one of us now, y’know?”

“couldn’t get rid of you if i tried,” he mumbles.

tucker huffs out a laugh. “nope. just remember that yeah? we’re your team.” something brushes against his temple and he nudges into it. “we’ve got your back, dude.”

the thought settles deep in his chest—deep down where it’s dark and aching. it curls there soft and glowing and wash curves around it, determined to protect this new thing. he thinks he likes it.

“i’ve got you wash, go back to sleep,” tucker murmurs against his hand.

wash hums, another thought settling inside him; but it slips from his sleep-heavy mind. it’s alright though, he thinks, as he sinks further down, he can find it later. tucker’s here.

[stop]

[motherlyra]

Chapter 44: Prophecy Day

Long ago, the characters lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Request Box attacked.

Really though, this was not how I was planning these events to take place but it ended up working out in the end. Apparently this is what happens when I set the characters loose.

[Sans Days/Nights]

[Buy me a coffee] [Patreon]

Warnings: Serious warning for first part of this chapter for rape undertones. It doesn’t actually go anywhere, but the terror and thoughts of those situations are there. The rest of the chapter is nice tho and you chat with the old turtle so that’s kinda cool.

The command was simple enough to follow.

Your adrenaline was already pumping through your veins as you struggled against the magical bonds, your mind scrambling and trying to make sense of the situation. You could feel Gaster’s smile close to your ear, his hand grabbing your shoulder one sharp finger at a time, the heat radiating from him. You were breathing shallowly and quickly, feeling like you couldn’t get enough oxygen in your system as your muscles pulled with all their force to wield no results. Gaster wouldn’t hurt you, right? If he wanted to hurt you, he would have done so a long time ago… So what was he planning on doing to you?

As your thoughts scrambled to gather the worst possible scenarios, Gaster grew to his full height, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. A rumble came from deep in his chest and turned to a dark laugh, eyes cracking open as they drifted back down to you. A hand closed around your throat and he tilted your head to watch the panic on your face.

“So this is what it feels like to be alive.” His voice seemed different. Darker, excited, and even more dangerous sounding than usual. “Fascinating.” His hand tightened around your throat and he pressed his body against yours, his nails digging into your shoulder. You opened your mouth to scream, but black tar covered your mouth the moment you started.

Trapped.

He had you pinned with nowhere to go. Every time you tried summoning your teleporting powers and started feeling the needles, he would tighten his grip ever so slightly, halting any progress you would be making. “You don’t get to run off again. As of right now, you are mine.” He growled. He knew you were trying to teleport, you swallowed, mind reeling and trying to come up with a plan C. The magic holding you up suddenly faded, and Gaster caught you, holding you by your sides and pinning you to the wall. His face pressed against where your neck met your shoulder, and you could feel him take in your scent.

No longer restricted by the orange magic, your hands flew to his shoulders, trying to push him away to no avail. He was too strong, too close, to gain any sort of advantage. You tried kicking him, but he didn’t seem to notice your weak attacks. Your muffled struggling was the only sound in the quiet room, and you knew Sans wasn’t going to hear anything. He wouldn’t be back in time.

That thought sent a chill throughout your body as the terrifying realization settled in you, and that seemed to make Gaster grip tighter onto you as a rumbling came from deep in his chest. “That is right… Feel the terror coursing through your body. The hopelessness of your reality. I need it.” His teeth brushed along your neck down to where your neck met your shoulder, the sharp edges threatening to break skin. You froze up, unable to think of anything you could do to escape. He was right; you were powerless to defend against him. You were at his mercy.

Your thoughts were panicking so badly it took you a moment to realize he stopped moving, simply holding you in that position for a few seconds.

The coldness of the room suddenly became apparent as he separated himself from you, his magic effortlessly picking you up and bringing you back to the counter. He quickly stepped over to his papers, writing something quickly as his magic released you back in your original seat. The tar left your mouth and you gasped for air, bringing your knees close to you, shock still scrambling your thoughts as you tried to figure out what just happened. You felt yourself shaking, watching Gaster fearfully while he seemed to ignore you.

“My apologies, but I needed genuine results.” Gaster quickly said as he wrote another line in Wing Dings before swiftly standing straight, and pulling his Soul out. The once hollow Soul now seemed like it was almost pure red, just along the edges you could see the gap between the Determination and white outline. He gave a single shocked laugh, taking a step back and bringing a hand to his forehead. “It… It worked. My theory was correct.” He gave another relieved laugh, looking like exhaustion was suddenly catching up with him. He wiped sweat away at his forehead with the back of his wrist, still staring unbelieving at the Soul.

Gaster looked up at you, genuine smile appearing on his face as he stepped up to you. You had another wave of panic as he grew closer, and you saw the red in his Soul brighten ever so slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice as he reached out for you. Orange magic grabbed you and threw you into his arms with a yelp, and he held you in a tight hug as he spun around. “You beautiful, glorious human!” He held you up by your arms, looking excited. “Do you know what this means?” He asked quickly, eyes wide and smile big. You’ve never seen him so happy.

You have also never been more terrified in your life.

“G-gaster…” You could feel yourself shaking in his hands, and his smile quickly dropped when he saw how red your face was, the slight quiver in your lip. “C-can you… put me down, p-please?” It took everything you had to not start crying at the request, your nerves clashing and still reeling from the panic. The response was instant, and he quickly set you down back on the counter. You immediately pulled your knees close and hugged yourself, still watching him carefully.

“What is wrong? Are you hurt? Was I perhaps to rough?” He asked quickly, seeming to grow concerned and leaned down to look for exterior damage with a much more expressive face than usual. You felt a flash of anger, and your eyes burned.

“I t-thought… I thought you were going to…” You inhaled trying to keep your shaking under control, but it felt like you just made it worse. You brought a hand up to where his teeth threatened to break skin, and looked away.

“Oh, no, of course not!” He straightened himself for a moment, seeming to realize what you were getting at. He swallowed, and leaned forward to quickly explain himself. “I would never mark you as my own. I simply needed you as terrified as you could possibly could be. I would never actually put you under anything like that, that was just a-“ There was a cracking sound, and he recoiled, bringing a hand to his face. You had your hand extended, and you realized you smacked him.

“But. You. Did.” You said sharply, shaking violently. You tried to control your breathing, anger burning on your face. “I was terrified. Y-you can’t just… do that!” You yelled, voice straining. Gaster seemed genuinely shocked you were so upset. That made you angrier. “What? D-did you expect me to be frightened for my life one moment, and fine the next?!” Gaster opened his mouth to say something, but you jumped to the ground and interrupted him. “No! It doesn’t work that way! I don’t care what your reasons are, that isn’t okay! I’m only human!”

“Precisely! I thought humans were resilient when their life was on the line. Surely you must have survived more life endangering situations than that.” He tried reasoning, taking a step back away from your rage. He must be nearly half a foot taller than Papyrus in height, yet he seemed to think you were a danger when angry.

“My life, maybe, not… that!”

“What’s going on here?” Sans’ voice caught the both of you off guard, and you turned to see him standing at the open door, a paper bag in his hand. He looked at how defensively Gaster was standing, and how your cheeks were burning with anger. His eyebrows lowered and he looked at Gaster. “What did you do?”

You immediately stomped over to Sans and grabbed the paper bag out of his hands. “Tell your fucking brother how to treat a human properly.” The venom in your voice shocked Sans, but you left the basement and stepped into the snow. It seemed like it was growing dark in Snowdin, but it wasn’t like you had any concept of time down here anyway. As you walked away from the basement you heard Sans pick up an accusatory tone of voice, but you left the brothers to the argument without you.

The snow crunched under your bare feet, and you bit your cheek to ignore the regret of allowing yourself to be teleported unprepared earlier. You quickly made your way to the house, going in just long enough to slip on shoes, ignoring the concerned look Flowey gave you and slammed the door behind you. You were halfway to the entrance of Waterfall when you realized you were still in your robe and pajamas, but you didn’t care at this point. You fixed your disheveled robe to cover more of your neck, but not because you needed the warmth.

The entrance of Waterfall welcomed you with warm air, probably coming all the way from Hotland you figured. You let the blue toned darkness surround you as you continued walking through, letting the distant sound of running water slow down your thoughts.

Your mind replayed the events of the basement without your permission, and you kept shaking your head to focus on where you were right now. One thing that stuck out was how he insisted he wasn’t going to… ‘mark’ you. Your hand rubbed your shoulder, thinking about it. As if getting ‘marked’ was what you were worried about.

Shaking your thoughts away once more, you made your way through the close cave space until you finally ended up where all the bridges were. You stopped a moment to take in the scene, before walking to the edge you and Sans ate at before. You really were a creature of habit, you realized as you sat down and pulled off your shoes, slowly putting your feet into the blue glowing water. Finally opening the paper bag you took from Sans, you saw plenty of hotdogs in buns stacked on each other, along with an entire bottle of ketchup next to them. There was just about enough food in here for three people, you realized with a slight pang of guilt. It ended shortly after Gaster’s actions replayed in your mind yet again, and you quickly grabbed a hotdog and gave it a small layer of ketchup before angrily biting into it.

“Just who does he think he is?” You mumbled with a mouthful of food, kicking the water. You swallowed and took another bite while staring at the waves of color. Possibly the worst thing about the situation, you figured, was how you didn’t see it coming. Ever since he was back he seemed cold, but more-or-less predictable. He was a doctor, and acted on curiosity but not to the point of threatening you like… that. After the fact he seemed so excited and active, somehow losing his cold doctor act after that terrifying situation. Maybe it had something to do with his Soul.

You paused mid-bite at that thought, just for a moment, before finishing the hotdog and grabbing another. His Soul was nearly full of Determination when he pulled it out the second time, but you didn’t know what exactly that meant. He was going to tell you, you realized, but of course you doubted you would have been able to appreciate that answer in the state you were in.

“You know, food tends to taste better when you actually take the time to taste it.” An old voice startled you, nearly making you drop what little of the hotdog you had left. You quickly turned around to see an old turtle monster looking at you. He stopped stroking his beard and slapped his knee. “Wahaha! So jumpy! I’m sure you have your reasons though.” You blinked at the monster, not knowing how to respond. He took the silence as an invitation to sit beside you. “Gerson.” He introduced himself simply.

You said your name, silently wondering why he was suddenly picking up a conversation with a random stranger. He seemed to notice. “You’ve a question in your eyes, I can see it. You’ve also lots of anger in there too. I’m not about to pry into anyone’s business, but I can see you need a distraction… and maybe help with those hotdogs?” He looked at your paper bag with his one good eye, slight smile hinting at his actual intentions with sitting with you.

“They’re not really mine to give out… but you can have one I suppose.” You grab one out of the bag and hand it to the old monster, who seemed to appreciate it quite a bit.

“Ah, that’s what I love about you humans! Either you are completely selfish, or truly givin’, and you never know what you might end up with! Wahaha!” He laughed again, taking a massive bite out of the hotdog. “Where are my manners? I said I was going to distract you, yet here I am making casual conversation.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Let me tell you ‘bout the prophecy. Sure, the darn thing seems to be irrelevant now since we monsters are freed and everything, but it sure does make a nice story.” He pulled out a small purple cloth that was in the shape of a rounded shield, a circle with wings were taking over the top half, while three triangles almost looked like a face at the bottom.

He continued to talk about how the circle was an angel, said that they were the one who was going to empty the underground. He then laughed and said how the underground was still not empty, but the principle of the prophecy came true enough. He then continued to distract you more, talking about the ancient monster-human war, which he seemed to know too much about to have simply heard about it. You started to wonder how old monsters could even get, given that the war had become nothing more a bedtime story back on the surface…

He had strange nicknames for other monsters you knew, the one that stood out the most was his name for the King. Fluffybuns. That managed to make you laugh, and he seemed to take comfort that you genuinely responded. He talked and talked… rarely needing any sign to continue talking about absolutely everything.

After awhile he suddenly grew quiet, and he looked around the empty cave room you two were in.

“Say, I don’t see many humans around these parts alone. More often than not they are with another monster or travel in a pack, but givin’ that you are so comfortable as to wear your ‘jamas here, I can safely assume you’ve been here for some time, eh?” He half asked, and you shrugged.

“A little while, yeah.” You had kept your answers short and vague for the turtle during the encounter so far, and he picked up on that.

“Long vacations are fine and all, but don’t be hiding for too long.” He commented, finally finishing up the last bit of hotdog he had been holding onto this entire time. You startled, wondering how he knew. “The only people who go on breaks are ones who need to get away from something. The only time someone is upset on their break is when they can’t escape what they’re running from.” He winked at you… or maybe just blinked, you couldn’t exactly tell when he only had one eye.

“I’ll… keep that in mind, thank you.” You looked down at your feet, gently splashing the water to make the waves grow brighter in color.

“I think I distracted you long enough.” He stood up with a grunt, seeming to struggle with the shell on his back for a moment. “I’ll leave you to your business.” He gave a lazy wave to you and started walking back over the bridges. You mulled over the stories he told you. They weren’t directly relevant to your life at all, yet you took comfort in knowing about them. Old people were too wise for their own good, you concluded before standing up and shaking off the water on your feet.

You tried to dry your feet to the best of your ability before slipping on your shoes again, but you really didn’t want to walk all the way back to Sans’ house… Maybe you could try to teleport again? You swallowed, not really wanting to scare yourself to try teleporting though, knowing that you had plenty of material for that. You shook your head and sat down again, crossing your legs. People say meditation is great to control your thoughts… It was worth a shot.

You straightened your back and relaxed your arms, putting the paper bag in your lap and listening to the running water around you. In… Out… You controlled your breathing, and tried to clear your mind. Thoughts of the monster war bubbled in your head, and you quickly brushed them off. Come on, you could do it. In… Out… Your home popped up, and you wondered how Samus was doing. You hoped she was enjoying her time with Undyne and Alphys. She probably missed climbing in Sans.

“Agghhh…” You grumbled, rubbing your head. Your thoughts were too active to be empty. You would be here forever if you kept trying to meditate like this. You sighed, figuring the easiest way to teleport would to give yourself a quick scare, but you had trouble deciding if it was worth it. You made an incredibly short pro-con list that simply consisted of; Pros: Get to Sans’ place without the long walk. Cons: Scared. You sighed, your laziness winning the argument.

Swallowing, you closed your eyes and imagined yourself in a dark room, trying to force the thought of vines covering the ground. Yeah… Yeah that’s scary as shit, you congratulated yourself before realizing you weren’t actually scared of that at the moment. You grumbled at yourself and quickly shook your head, restarting the imagination.

The vines were slowly moving around you, growing along the sides of the shadows, before they all suddenly stopped moving. They started to sag, turning brown before slowly collapsing into dust, confusing you. You heard footsteps beside you, and when you turned your head, you saw a man with a crooked nose and burns across his face pointing a gun to your head. He had a wild look in his eyes, along with something dark that was splattered all across him. You looked down his dust-covered body, seeing that he was holding a long metal arm. That arm looked familiar to you, but before you could process it, you heard him cock the hammer of the gun back.

“End of the line, pet.”

The gun fired, and you screamed as you fell in the air. Your fall was interrupted by the table in Sans’ living room, but only partially. You bounced to the ground hard, putting pressure on your tailbone as you swore and hissed through your breaths, the pain being equal to at least double that of hitting your funny bone on the counter edge.

“Whoa!” You heard Sans shout, a cup falling to the ground. You glanced up to see Sans looking shocked at you, before quickly coming to your side. “You okay, Vertebae?” He asked, helped you sit up, but you kept sitting on a hand, to try and relieve the pain. You started to shake your head, but automatically trying to nod, and ended up with an awkward impersonation of a bobble head. You swallowed and looked around the room to make sure you actually ended up where you wanted, more-or-less.

Gaster looked like he was sitting at the couch before you appeared, now standing with a hand to his chest as he looked puzzled between you and it. “Did something happen?” He quickly asked, seeming to be his more lively self rather the doctor.

“No- I mean, yes, but not really…” You quickly said, shaking your head trying to get your thoughts straight. “Sans, call Alphys.” You quickly looked at Sans, your request confusing him.

“Right now? It’s pretty late-“

“Call Alphys.” You said again, carefully standing up and rubbing your rear. “Just… trust me. It’s probably nothing, but please?” He nodded, quickly heading up the stairs and to his room. You watched him close the door behind him, hoping your imagination was just an out of control daydream.

“Are… are you alright?” Gaster asked. You looked at him, and he was still looking concerned at you.

“Just peachy.” You said flatly, clear that you haven’t forgiven or forgotten what he’d done yet. He nodded, averting his eyes a moment before looking back to you. His hands were tying themselves into knots before he took a breath, bringing them behind his back.

“I should… properly apologize. Sans has told me more about humans and I realized that my actions earlier may have came across as a much more personal form of attacking.” You raised your eyebrow, waiting for more. “Please understand my interactions with humans within this reality are nearly nonexistent. Before the core incident I have had but a couple encounters with humans, not nearly enough to learn any sort of behavioral or social norms. I believed I was simply threatening your physical body and the integrity of Sans’ territory, as… that is what the equivalent to monsters is.” He swallowed, seeming genuinely nervous. “I would not have acted in such a manner had I known it carried a different weight for humans.” He bowed slightly, keeping his eyes to the ground.

“God, why do you have to always be so wordy?” You asked, crossing your arms. Gaster looked up at you, shocked. “Just… say you are sorry already, man. I don’t care what your excuse is, I just want to know- that you know- that you seriously messed up and won’t do it again.” You frowned at him, and he quickly stood up properly again, placing a hand on his chest.

“My ap- I mean… I am sorry. It will not happen again without express permission.” He gave a slight bow again, and you wondered where he picked that sort of habit up. You considered his apology, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could forgive him just yet. It did seem like he meant it, at least.

“Guys, we have a problem.” Sans stepped close to the railing on the second floor, looking down at the two of you. He had the phone in his hand, and you could see the worry on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked feeling a pit open in your stomach, already having a bad feeling that you knew what happened.

“They have Mettaton.”

[ziggydageek-blog]

Something Sirius This Way Comes

Uncle Harvey broke rank among his motley crew. "Is Iris alright?" Trembling, I shook my head. Reaching into the pocket of my robe, I pulled the crumpled up letter explaining the situation. Uncle Harvey took it from my quivering grip. Speed reading, his eyes fluttered across the page in a timely fashion. "Well leave tonight," he turned back to his companions. The three of them communicated telepathically, for nothing was said but everything was understand. The main in the center seat raised his arms and the other got up, joining my uncle. "Send for Morticia and Perry," he told a hooded figure hidden in the shadows. A movement came from out of my peripherals and I heard the frizzy haired witch speak up, "of course sirs." Surprised by the weight suddenly encompassing my wrist, her fingers tightened around it. "I'm to lead you to your quarters," she whispered. Nodding, I hid the irritation I felt that two conversations had gone on simultaneously that only 4 ppl could hear. "You know," the witch wheezed, " you, too, could join the rankings or accomolish2d Legilimens...." I let the sentence hang. I'd given it thought at one point; the fact that my brain already worked on a level that I wasn't totally comfortable with wad enough for me; if I were being honest. We turned and left the room. I felt no need to join my uncle and his greasy old flaggies on their journey. My mother sent for me to present her case before the anarchist council and I had done just that.. it was just like when I was a child and she'd bring me to her statute of Secrecy meetings to plead her case for her. Iris was never my mother; I was her glorified baby sitter. The distance suited as just fine, always had. If she had ever needed me, she'd write to Salem boarding school and excuse me for weeks at a time. Just as my stream of thoughts gave up, we were in front of a door. "You're chambers, madame," the witch curtsied and I nodded back. My lot her may have feared theses goons but I knew them to be my equals; we were all capable of magic and whether or not anybody wanted to admit it, they all wanted to sleep with iris so staying in my good graces was key. "Night," I muttered, eager to go to my locket. I couldn't shake the vision I'd had of Sirius being cornered by dementors. I barely risked thinking it, but it gnawed at the back of my mind incessantly. Flopping on the bed, I pulled the locket out. Tapping the glass, I whispered his name, my breath fogging it over. Nothing. I muttered it a couple times more. If I strained, I swore I heard several voices. Unable to shake the anxiety from the pit of my stomach, I go figured there was othing I could do to force him to answer... clearly, a situation had come to fruition. Wracked with nerves, I pulled my draught of sleep from the knapsack I carried with me and took a drop. Not enough to put me out for the night but enough to take the edge off. Just as I had started drifting, I heard a voice from the cool metal in my hand. "Gilda," I heard, " Gilda!" Startled but drowsy, I flipped it open. "Gilda, finally!" Sirius's grey eye peered out from the glass in my palm. "What's going," I said groggy, rubbing the drought from my eyes. "Where are you?" He shouted. There was what sounded like the whooshing of air in the background, as though he were sitting beside a massive fan amir an airplane engine. "California," I managed back, completely thrown off by the sound. "Thank God!" He yelled. There was an excitement to his voice that had been lacking for the time I'd known him. Back in his youth I'm sure it was a familiar tone; to me, it worked as an aphrodisiac but also a stimulant. Awake, I looked at him hard, asking "What the fuck is going on?" The exuberance in his voice painted every word with a note of glee that was infectious. "I'll tell you when I get there! Be ready!" And just like that, the locket necame silent. Completely alert, I got up from the bed and went to the window, foolishly, like a child, and waited. It was a stance I knew well, seeing as how I spent my entire chodmhood in it. Waiting, always waiting. Waiting for my father to come back after the argument he had with mom, just like he always did.. waiting.. still waiting. Waiting for my mom to come get me for Christmas vacation.. then spring break.. then summer.. waiting, always waiting. Neither came. That's why I got good at apparating. I had learned long ago you never fucking wait.. and yet, there I stood. I watched out the window, telling myself the whole time I was a fucking moron. I watched the night grow darker; I watched as the trees blended in with the surrounding shadows; I watched as they returned and I saw the pink begin to tickle the sky, the purple blending and finally, the whispers of the rays of sun. I watched as life began to stir and I watched as the sun became more and more prominent just on the horizon. A familiar, sinking feeling entered my stomach; as dreary as it was, it felt like home. I knew the bitter taste of disappointment. It was the one stable thing in my life. Just as I swallowed the lump in my throat and ignored the tears threatening to crest, there, in the distance, something came into my line of vision. Just a speck, I thought little of it it initially. Gradually tho it became more and more pronounced til I couldn't ignore it even if I could. My heart, which moments earlier had been shrouded in defeat, quickened ever so slightly. It took an eternity or maybe less than a breathe but eventually the speck became pronounced to the point that tho I had no idea what it was exactly, I could start to hope.. Finally, I could make out a figure, but it was a figure I had only read about in my classes on magical beasts. The wings were magnificent and the closer it got the more impressive the size truly became. Grabbing my knapsack tighter, an emotion welled up in me that I couldn't ignore and couldn't place. All I knee was my whole life I'd waited for somebody to show up and finally, here he was. Maybe at that moment I became aware that I'd been waiting on Sirius Black my entire life.